Hopeful, Hopefully But Not Necessarily Necessary
by I Couldn't Find My Pen
Summary: Joly's tale. The story of a hypochondriac medical student that genuinely has something wrong. The story of his two partners and friends that he so loyally dedicated himself to dwindling with him. A tale of keeping yourself under the darkest layers of denial so your emotions won't go down with your mental health. And it's told to you. Because guilt forces me. And because I love you
1. I'm Crap At Naming Things

Hey, you.

I'm sorry.

I wrote this for you. This is something I've been thinking about it for years, but I wasn't sure when you would be old enough to handle all of this information. Some of it will be completely new, other bits we've probably already mentioned before- but I've never told you the whole thing, or in this way. I want you to know that my motivation for writing is singly to have a positive effect on your life. I don't care if anyone else reads this, but it's you I'm doing writing for.

First; I think it's important to establish why I wrote this for you. I wanted to write something so that you could understand why I wasn't around for probably the one of the most important moments of my life, of your life, and how much I regret that.

This I made for your 16th birthday, so happy birthday! And it's created out of a compilation of a number of things: some I used are from memory, others are probably more accurate as I wrote a kind of journal thing for some parts of this journey, so their taken right out of that, and finally some bits of it are from medical cards and pill receipts and stuff I stuck on for you to see. Also, your uncle R helped me with some illustrations.

So I hope you get something out of it, hopefully you'll gain an understanding of how much regret I feel, and you'll be interested in my version of the story. I'll start off by telling you the story leading up to this point. Here we go.

* * *

Twenty one years ago I decided that I wanted to be a doctor. I've always been a hypochondriac. I remember coming to the conclusion I had leprosy whenever I was eight- don't judge- the skin on my hands was so dry due to my soap allergy and I'd only recently learnt that people could still get it now. There have been too many times I've thought I had cancer, or was going to have a heart attack, it's quite embarrassing. Throughout my life that part of me had always been there.

Not only would I think about these things: I'd really worry about them; stay up late at night trying to weigh up whether I should see someone about whatever I thought I had, or if I really had it. I'd spend hours about diseases and death and dying. Often I'd look up illnesses in a medical text book my Mum had from being a nurse, and online whenever we got a computer.

Because I was so worried about having something, I'd get have panic attacks because of it. Let me tell you now: panic attacks suck. So many people use them as an exaggerated metaphor for being scared, but actually, they're really horrible. I remember that I got taken to hospital the first time I experience one, because my parents thought it was something serious. After some persuasion, I'd eventually I told my Mum and she'd tell me I was being stupid and she'd check it out for me. But that didn't stop. Each time I got a pain in my chest- I'd think heard attack. Every time my stomach was sore I'd think appendicitis- or it bursting on me or something. And each time I'd sit and worry about it until I got into such a state that one of my parents had to sort me out and I'd tell them and they'd comfort me and then it would be okay.

So when I had to decide what course to pick to study at university, there was no doubt in my mind that I would pick medicine. It may seem strange and as if I was unaware that my hypochondria could exacerbate if I learnt about each and every disease known to the modern doctor. I'm not a complete idiot- but that idea didn't concern me. My life was so consumed with thinking about disease and I was so absorbed by it that I didn't want to pick anything else. I was so interested in it and the idea of being able to treat people. Because I wanted to be able to comfort people like my parents comforted me and to see them get better.

Yes, I was aware of the risk of becoming a hypochondriac doctor, but it was one I felt so passionately about taking.

You know, I got in to uni. It was such a good feeling getting to do something you really cared about, and my family were happy. The whole concept of university was new and exciting, and I was especially excited, as nerdy as it sounds, to learn how to be a doctor.

The first two years were pretty amazing, not that I didn't have complications but I'll get onto that. I made so many friends. At university you meet so many people in one week alone so it's hard to get to know everyone, but I remember that the people I stayed with were really good fun. Annoyingly though I've lost contact with all of them now, except obviously Bossuet, who was my room-mate. I'd love to see them again, but it was good having even that amount of time I did with them.

Bossuet and I were room-mates for three years, during the whole time he did his three-year degree in law and I just about made it through completing the first three years of mine. Of course we got on amazingly. I think even at the time I knew I'd never got on with a guy better. He was hilarious, and would find the funny side of anything. And he didn't like to take things seriously, which I admired. This light-hearted attitude became often the same for me whenever I was around him, or sometimes whenever I took things overly seriously he'd calm me down with a joke or facial expression. I made great friends with him the first year, so we shared again and again and it was really brilliant.

Though I spend a lot of time studying but I went out as much as I could too, with a number of different college friends and Bo especially. We'd go out doing the normal stuff: drinking, trying to get with a girl, movies, seeing bands we liked, all that. It was great; I loved going out and enjoyed meeting all the new personalities and faces.

The reason I had to discontinue my degree after three years was that my hypochondria was getting uncontrollably worse, and I couldn't have healthily gone on. It was fine for the first while, but I started to get panic attacks again. I'd be in the middle of a lecture and I'd feel my heart starting to quicken, my skin hived up and I would feel numb in my face and hands. The numbness scared me further, I wanted to run but my feet were cramped up, it was sore and uncomfortable, my whole body felt like it was swelling up, I was too warm, but my hands felt cold from the numbness and my head dizzy from the lack of breath. Everything was happening simultaneously- I wanted to run but I couldn't, it felt like my insides were about to become my outsides from an explosion writhing through my body screaming out for enough control to take place.

Sometimes whenever this happened Bossuet was there, and he'd stop me from thinking about medicine, he'd stop me worrying and I felt better. But it happened so frequently during my 3rd year, I found the exam really difficult because I had been too hyped up to study properly.

In the end I managed to pass my June exam, but I was aware that it was only a scrape through, and I doubted in my ability to make it through another year.

As it happened, Bo was planning on taking a year out. He wanted to visit different countries around the world and to experience a number of things, and I knew that I needed a break as well. Traveling around was something I enjoyed, and it was so good having someone to do it with for a whole year. I wanted to return to medicine one day.

We were pretty inseparable for the next year. The first thing we did and as soon as the summer began was to go on a short holiday to Spain, which was like another world away. The sun and the people were beautiful; I wanted to stay there for much longer. After that we realised we needed more money, so we decided we had to work for 3 months to make up the finances. We worked at this little bar near us most evenings and I got a job at a store, and Bo managed to get a temporary office job. We ended up staying for 5 months, because of Musichetta.

I went out with her first, and she was amazing. She's always had such a petite body, and a great sense of style. She worked at the bar that Bo and I did, a job she had to help pay her way through university, but when she'd finished her degree in English that lasted 3 years, she never had the opportunity to stop in the bar. She was starting to formulate a plan to get back into uni again before becoming a teacher, because the employment rate was low. But I loved her, her English skills were visible even when talking, and using words that neither Bo nor I understood, and she was great company especially whenever it was just Bo, her and I.

My memory still hasn't had the time I asked her out on a Friday at the beginning of our shift removed from it yet. I don't think I'll forget how nervous I was, or how relived whenever she said yes. We continued to go out, for ages, it was great, I started to love her.

I remember one day I had been at a lecture, Bo was lying on the top of his bed throwing a beanie up and down. I was sitting on the end of the bed, talking to him, watching him. Only recently I'd noticed there was something between us. Only recently I had brought it to the foreground of my mind that there was something about me wanting to sit beside him and lean on him and be near him and feel his body that was different...

He tossed the beanie up and down during our conversation. I caught it.

"Hey. Gimme that back!" He cried.

"Okay," I replied, and put it over his face, so I could only see him through the holes in the fabric. He tried to kick me but I moved my leg, placing my body on top of his. I could feel heat between us, and I didn't move.

"Ummh." He said.

"What sorry?" I chided.

"UMMHHHH!"

"Sorry, that was hard to get..." I joked. He put big his hands around my ones that were drying desperately to hold the hat down over his face, and they moved.

"Joly! You twat!" Was all that came out of his mouth before I laughed, feeling pretty proud of myself, still on top of him, still leaning over his face. "Such a looser." He ran his hand through my hair in an attempt to completely mess it up. I smiled.

I looked at him, wanting to avoid his eyes, but not being able to.

I could feel the heat, the deep emotional heat between us and between those moments I realised he could also. That was the moment that our lips collided in an unexpected moment, and my body felt a rush of excitement. I'd never kissed a guy before. I had thought about being with one however, and this was fulfilling those desires. I wrapped my hands around the back of his smooth head, then they independently under his T-shirt and over his upper-arm muscles.

It was awesome and I wanted more, but I pulled away, and looked away.

"Musichetta."

"Mmmm," was his reply. I left the room, feeling weird and awkward and confused. Did that mean he liked me? I didn't realise Bossuet was into guys, especially not ones like me. I didn't even know if I liked him. He's attractive. He's my best friend. I'm going out with Musichetta, and I want to be with her. What is happening? Ugh.

The next day we met up with some of our friends and every time I looked at him I remembered, so I tried to look away. It was hard to concentrate on conversation when that was all my mind wanted to think of, so I was mostly quiet. Though Bossuet and I ended up straying from the larger group a few times- lost in conversation. Avoiding the incident, last night of course, at all costs, but we enjoyed talking to each other so much.

Whenever we went home together I didn't really know what to do. I wanted to kiss him again. Did he want to kiss me? Did he like me? How do I feel about him? Musichetta.

But we did. We kissed eachother again on the sofa. I'm not proud. I just wanted to confirm this, to confirm what we felt. I don't even remember how, and it wasn't that long after we came home again, but it happened. We just got on the sofa together and started making out. It was so great. Even after we stopped, we cuddled and I couldn't help thinking about it. One problem: Musichetta.

Bossuet had the idea of telling her how I felt, but I didn't know what to do. I really really like her- but I also like Bossuet. How does that work?

With the guilt that was piling up in me for kissing someone outside of our relationship, I had to get it out. It was so difficult to articulate it in the correct manner in which I wanted it to come across. I mean, to a lot of people it seems so unusual and unheard of.

"Okay. I want to ask you a question and complete honesty is necessary."

"Okay." She smiled, but her eyes looked very serious.

"Tell me everything that comes to mind whenever I ask this question."

"Just go, Joly!" She piped up, becoming impatient.

"Okay! Exactly what do you think of Bossuet."

"Hmm. I've always really liked him and got on with him. He's funny, nice and actually really caring. And intelligent too."

"Great, but like what else? I mean, was there ever point, and it doesn't have to be now, where you thought he was...attractive."

She looked at me suspiciously, her eyeslids getting all close together so that her long eyelashes almost touched. "Do I detect a form of acusation, Mr.?"

"No! No. I just. Look. I...I..." FLIP! Words? Words where are you?

I could have a dictionary in front of me and still now know what to say.

The question; "You do?" seemed to pop out of her mouth with no second thought.

"What? I dunno. Maybe."

"I thought that you did. But I thought you liked me." I was shocked, but I needed to console her. I went right beside her, and lifted her small hand with mine, coming close to her face.

"I do. I like you a lot." I rubbed her hand with my thumb back and forth. Though her eyes glistened, her mouth curved at the corners. "I just...I dunno. It's weird. I... kind of like you both?"

"Okay. I understand the predicament now. And you were wondering if I liked Bossuet, like you do?" She questioned. I was so full of the need for an answer now, I felt like jumping up and down. But this could go one of two ways. And I didn't know what would be better.

"Yeah. But I don't really know what to do. I mean, I really want you to for some reason. But even if you do, I don't know where to go from there."

"Well Joly. It's an unusual situation, I must admit. I can only think of one solution." WHAT? I don't even know what she thinks of this whole thing! My mind wanted my body to scream out to receive an answer that I so strongly desired. "We could give it ago."

"What?" I busted out with.

"Us. Why don't we all try going out?"

We didn't initially think of having a polygamous relationship but with the events that took place it made so much sense. I didn't even really recognise it as a thing until I felt that I was something that I wanted in my heart. And we were so happy together.

So after we stayed on two months longer than originally planned, then we left on a tour of Europe. We started in Germany, in Hamburg, which is a beautiful city. The houses have very sloped roofs and the whole city is littered with vegetation, unlike any other. Following, we left to Italy and saw a number of famous sites and got drunk on the refreshment of watermelon juice in the sun. We then went to a Spanish island for a while which was a very relaxing experience, it was late autumn and we pretty much spent every day at the beach under the sun and eating ice-cream. To contrast our next trip was in Poland and it was winter so every surface was white. We didn't have a home anymore; our apartment that Bo and I had shared hadn't left our possession at the end of the month after we left, and we didn't feel like we had anything to return to.

For Christmas we were in Australia; because why wouldn't you? It was such a different experience but good to try out. We seized all opportunities until we didn't have enough money to so anymore. It was time to go home.

We came back on a high, almost out of money, though we were intending to return to university when September and that already called for loans. Bo wanted to go back to specialise in business law so he could work for big businesses in the city. Moo wanted to take her English degree further and do a doctorate. And I needed to go back and continue medicine.

During the time between returning to Paris and starting back at uni again, we saw a poster up for _L'Amis of the world_ or something- I remember the exact words. I'd read all of it, what they were about and felt interested enough to check it out. Bo and I went together because he wanted to go with me, and that's where we meet the closest friends I have today.

This was where I'd meet all of your Uncles: Enjolras was the leader of the group, and I could immediately see why. Combferre was a silent leader; he was smart, more grounded and probably easier to talk to than Enjolras. You were inspired by Enjolras but it was Combeferre you'd reason with and talk to afterwards. Plus, he also did medicine so we got on well. Courfeyrac was loved by everyone: because you couldn't not. He could talk to anyone, especially if you were a woman, and was extremely well informed and interesting to talk to. His ability to be liked by anyone never detracts from his enthusiasm for restoring justice and helping others, and I like that.

There was Feuilly, who had no money himself but cared so much about other people in the same predicament, Bahorel was as enthusiastic as anyone else but he had a habit of getting himself into fights over his opinions, which would have worried me if I didn't think he enjoyed it so much. Jehan was going out with Courfeyrac and he was very also passionate about the subject of our meetings, as well a lot of other things like poetry, art and love. I found it funny that they'd gotten together because they were quite different in the way they viewed love, but they seemed to make it work somehow.

Marius was more of a half-hearted member, who had all the good will in the world but didn't seem to feel as passionately about it as the rest of us. Of course, the only person who had no passion was Grantaire, who is great and I get on well with, but I at first questioned his presence. His arguments were good but misplaced and he interrupted some of the most pinnacle moments in speeches we were all straining our ears to listen to. He irritated me and I didn't understand why he hadn't been told to leave. I wouldn't put it past Enjolras to kick him out at any point, but he never did. I didn't realise then why Enjolras had permitted his presence, and I began to like his sense of humour, and love him partially out of pity.

We all became friends, and brothers. Bo and I returned to the meetings which took place the majority of evenings. I found myself becoming more and more involved in their fight for change. A change for a more just government and society. A change for the equality of everyone; equal marriage, equal opportunities. We wanted a society where everyone could feel free within themselves but also protected by the law. And that was what we strived to achieve.

* * *

Now you know these events. This is what lead up to the beginning of what I'm about to tell you.

From where I'm about to begin, it's a year after we got back from travelling the world. I've moved in permanently with Bossuet and Musichetta in an apartment not too far from the Musain café, the place we would meet up with the Les Amis, and discuss change for the good. And I went back to medical school again and continued. Whether that was a good decision or not you can decide whenever you've reached the end.

Hopefully you'll like your weird present in some way. I know I could have just given you a video game or something, but I really want you to understand what happened. I can't live without trying to at least explain the guilt I feel because I wasn't there for you. I've missed out on so much, and it's never left my mind. I think about what's happened to you every day. This is nothing, it's just I want to attempt to explain how events folded in such away for that to happen in order. Please permit me to at least try to patch the gap in your heart.

I'm so sorry for everything. I love you a lot.

Joly

* * *

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	2. There's a First Time for Everything

I Guess There's a First Time for Everything, Even if it's Showing Everyone Your Crown Jewels

Water is very cleansing, so much so that years ago people would strongly involve it in healing rituals; whenever people didn't have the knowledge about medicine that we do today. I was in the shower, and was enjoying the feeling of the water running down my skin; it was washing away the dirt I'd stored up from having a lazy Saturday. Now we have a scientific awareness we know that one thing it won't wash away- is disease.

I had a voice in my mind. Like anyone does, that's how you think right? But my voice was more than conversational. It spoke in the same manner that I thought, but the words it would use were not my own. It wasn't a constant presence, it asserted itself at random moments, and filled my mind with unwanted crap that I didn't ask for. Usually I tried to get rid of it by thinking over it or replying repeatedly. It had kind of slipped into my mind sometime in the past year, I don't know how and I can't remember when. All I know is that I deal with it on a daily basis. It used to keep me up at night and and Moo and Bo would have to talk to me though I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to have a problem. That scared me. No-one wants to be sick, especially not this almost-doctor. Disease really scared me, and worried me, and there isn't much we can do about it.

As I rubbed shampoo in my hair I thought of what it would be like to be bald, like Bo.

I'm warning you that what I'm about to write is horrible, and so are most of the things the voice said. I feel guilty even writing about it, it's not my fault and it wasn't me that thought it but I still feel guilty. I don't even want to write it, like I didn't want to think it, but it's what happened and I want you to know. So...

As I rubbed shampoo in my hair I thought of what it would be like to be bald, like Bo. The Baldie. Egghead. Mr Clean. _At least you could be more original with your insults_. It looks horrible though. Like an unharry potter. Or shiny. It's like he's trying to be a mirror but it's not working; you know skin is too bumpy to display a reflection. Ugh. Yep, a surface has be smooth in order to reflect light. We know that. Go away. Nope. Yep. Nope. Don't care. It feels really horrible when you touch it, doesn't it? No it doesn't. I don't care. Stop. Nah, I'm alright. I'm not. Why? Cause you won't shut up. Baldie baldie baldie baldie baldie. I have no problems with my boyfriend's appearance, thank you. Yep, you do. He's 23 and he's balding. I know you do. I'm in here with you and I know. Shut up. Just shut up! Nope. I always liked him for more than that, stop trying to make me think otherwise. I hate you. You can't because it's _me_. Go away go away go away go away. Ugh.

It's very tiring having constant thoughts bounce off each other, like a battle ground. And it's tiring having a voice in your head you have to answer to. I feel tired out from just thinking sometimes. Who else gets that? And I don't know where the bald thing started, the voice has certain obsessions; recurring topics and that's just one of them.

Continuing my shower, I intervened by going over medicine in my head and tried to push those horrible thoughts away. They came like little bursts however, but I carried on with my revision.

Interrupting my thought a few minutes later, I heard the cleaner of our apartments knocking on the door. Musichetta was out working, she had a part time job at a shop to help pay and Bo was already out to the meeting with the Amis that I was going to whenever I was finished showering. So the knock went unanswered.

I felt guilty, the cleaner was a lovely lady, and I felt like I should maybe get out and answer the door, but I wasn't done yet and it was cold out there and my head was sore.

Instead my mind decided to entertain me with disgusting explicit pictures of her without any clothes on. _Wonderful._ Just think about it. No thanks, she's an old woman! The image was burned into my head. I tried to think of Musichetta instead. I really love my mind.

I just feel like I want to jump out of it sometimes out of the annoying conversational argument that often filled it, and the disgusting images, and the insulting of my friends and the guilt and discomfort of what I was experiencing. But you can't jump out of your mind. It's there because it's who you are really, your thoughts, and there's no way to leave it. I walked out of the shower feeling frustrated and my head was still sore.

Maybe I rubbed my head too vigorously with a certain amount of hatred for it as I dried my hair with a towel. My eyes felt bleary for a minute, and I had to sit down. One thing I was looking forward to was seeing everyone again. We were working on ways to raise money to go out on another trip and that was something I was really looking forward to.

On the way into my room I felt really uncomfortable but I focused on getting out as soon as I could. I looked at the photo on our bedroom door, we were all naked in it and I wanted to take time to smile at the memory but I had to rush in to get a scarf. I had to get a scarf.

I opened the top drawer with haste, getting frustrated at the heavy wooden material that made that even harder and more time consuming. I opened the drawer to find a pile of scarfs tangled up like a giant spider. Moo always told me to keep my drawers clean. I needed a scarf though, so I took it apart with vigour. There were so many and I needed one scarf and I had to go. I kept on thinking about what one, what colour. I needed a scarf and I had to go.

I took one apart- nope not that one. One was red, another spotted, and one was huge and bulky like a snake. The colours and shapes danced in front of my eyes. Red. Spotted. Striped. One was too bulky, another very fancy. They were red spotted and bulky and striped and red aswell red red red I red don't spotted know striped what bulky I'm red talking red blue spotted .Spotted. . red. . streipded bluenad .rblue?b-l-e-u-b-u-e-l-e-u-b-l-s-b-l-r-e-d. they werea dancing infroint of me limered and blye nad spottednad there wredere sspootedo … .uelbu.e….blue!  
S.. .e.d r,ed?

I grabbed one in front of my eyes, left quickly and didn't think about it again. It felt weird though everything was crashing down on me at once. I ignored it- I could survive this.

Ugh no, everyone was looking at me. They knew. FLIP! They knew about the voices in my head. I always knew I had my thoughts printed on my forehead. That's what people said about me. You could practically see into my brain, like my head was made of glass. I didn't mind before. And now everyone knew. I wanted to protest- I didn't fantasise about an old woman this morning! That was not me, I didn't choose that, I wouldn't have even thought that if I could help it. I think I just made a noise, but luckily the café was near. I went quickly to the Musain, quickening my pace the further I went.

I felt so relieved whenever I entered the Musain building. It was so warm. I couldn't wait to be in my friend's presence. I knew they wouldn't mind my thoughts. They would understand my lack of control. I knew Bo wouldn't mind what I said if I was brave enough to tell him, felt so glad to be in our relationship.

My heart hurt whenever I went up the stairs to find a room of my friends whose heads all took their turns to look at me. A few of them looked over and turned away straight away. Their laughter died down into silence. It sent a chill up my spine. They all knew and probably hated me because of it.

It was Bo who grabbed my shoulders, the lines on his face that had come from smiling so much were visible but not the smile that made them deeper. His eyes weren't looking into mine but over my shoulder. I looked at his bald head and watched the back ground change behind him as he brought me over into the corner. He took off his top in front of me and I pulled up my arms as he put it over me. Ah. I wasn't wearing any clothes. A good start to todays' meeting.


	3. Whenever Life Isn't Crap- We're Lucky

I'm Actually Really Lucky for Someone Who Hears Voices and Sometimes Thinks They Have Illnesses That Aren't Even In Existence

Usually Bossuet counted himself as being unlucky. He started to bald at the age of 23, his parents had got divorced twice, he often missed trains and lost tickets to things. He'd dropped his phone down the loo, cracked the screen of his new one, broken his laptop screen and spilt milk all over the keyboard. Now the letter 'n', exclamation mark and the up and down keys are no longer functioning. So many times on our trips abroad he gave his passport to me to look after following the incident of leaving it at a bus station. If someone was going to get something stolen off them, or bump into something, it was Bo. And now he had to deal with a partner that clearly had some sort of issues, though no-one really knew what they were.

What I'd always loved about Bo was that no matter how unlucky he turned out to be, he was okay about it. He took things in a breeze, and was always smiling. He made me and most other people happier just to know him and be around him.

I was also a happy person, and I knew that because everyone told me so, and I usually agreed with them. I've got so many positive things in my life, and I know it. I hadn't really thought about luck until I met Bo, and realised that I would probably describe myself as being lucky. But recently, I'm starting to wonder if that luck is fading. What if that constant companion is leaving me now? I worried. Time would tell.

I had been standing almost naked in the corner for ten minutes. Enjolras hadn't started speaking yet, even though everyone was gathered in front of him wanting to listen, to distract themselves- which in itself was worrying.

Eventually Bo decided to leave with me. I felt like I'd taken him away from all the fun, as well as myself, but I could deal with that. I shouldn't have come in the first place. I wish I had've read the situation better earlier and just stayed at home. But no.

My cold hand was wrapped in a warm one, the other I used to keep his T-shirt down over covering certain areas of myself from the world. We got into the house, and the first thing I did was enter to into our room.

I could see then- they aren't naked in that photo. Bo is wearing loose ripped jeans and a hoodie, Moo is wearing a write top and skinny jeans and that show her beautiful body off probably they best they could while she is clothed. My mind had made up their nakedness for me. I feel lucky that I have a mind fills me with such wonderful gifts every now and then.

Do I over-use sarcasm? I don't know. It's become a defence mechanism for me against my mind. Sarcasm: a shield for people who get annoyed at those who state the obvious and now those who face unwanted thoughts.

It turned out that I had flown a few of the scarfs at the wall, one was ripped up and another had a few holes in it. Wow. I really am crazy. Am I crazy? I didn't want to be crazy. Am I crazy? I could feel my head pulsating at those thoughts. Oh flip. Not a panic attack. I hate panic attacks. I hate illnesses and I hate the panic attacks I get from thinking about them. Actually the idea of a panic attack is making me feel worse, my hands are starting to clam up and my head is freezing. Flip flip flip no. I don't want one of these!

My side felt warm suddenly and I leaned my head on Bossuet's soft shoulder. My panicked state started to calm down as I felt his hand on my back, pulling me closer. I wasn't really aware of the tears slipping out, but I guess all of my distress and embarrassment hit me in that moment. I hated crying in front of people, but it felt okay now. It felt like an okay thing to do in this moment.

Bossuet was warm and kind, he comforted me.

"Don't panic Joly, we'll sort this out." My chest heaved as I made a weasing sound. "They won't mind what happened today, you know that sure. But anything else, any problems you're having- you, me and Moo will sort it out." I nodded, I wasn't really sure why though. It was like the other times Bossuet had managed to comfort me, except this was worse.

I didn't know if I believed what he said, but I wanted to, and I felt better.

We stayed in that position for ages, only moving so that Bo could get me something proper to wear out of the drawers.

"How are you?" he asked, seriously.

"I dunno. Better now. I don't know how I'll be later though. It's hard to tell."

Bossuet looked right into my eyes, my heart. "No matter how bad you get we'll be here. If it's something we can fix, we'll help you, and if not then we'll look for someone who can. You'll be okay. This is the worst so far, so it'll probably only get better."

It was weird seeing him so serious, despite how many times I'd both literally and metaphorically leaned on his shoulder.

"Thank you," was all that really came to mind as a reply. I wanted to take my mind of things, to get away. I waited until my eyes felt less foggy and my head less sore. "Let's do something fun!" I suggested, in the most optimistic voice I'd used all evening. Bossuet's face crinkled at the corner of his lips with a warm smile.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, showing enthusiasm.

"Well: food first."

"Yep: food always first. And then women."

"And then you, sir."

He mocked offense. "I had been genuinely convinced I was higher on your list of priorities, Joly." I smiled as the mood got lighter.

"Hmm well you're _just above_ going to the toilet, I'm not sure how that is in your book."

"I'm _enchanted." _He laughed, it hadn't been that funny but he kissed me anyway.

"When is Moo coming home?" I wondered.

"We will see _the cow_ coming home in an hour and a half." He answered, seemingly straight.

"Oh. I have some ideas of what we can do when she returns…"

"Sounds promising. I don't know if I want to know what it is yet?"

"Nope. You'll see though." I smiled.

Dinner was simple, to reflect our cooking skills. We messed around a bit and then lounged out on the sofa awaiting the return of Moo. Or: 'The Cow'.But she killed us when we tried to call her that, but we thought it was funny.

The click of the door was heard and both of our heads turned simultaneously in the direction of the sound. My legs were on top of Bo's as we both had stretched out on either end of the sofa, but we got up to meet our girlfriend.

"Bonjourno!" she smiled and leaned in to kiss each of us on the lips. She looked good even in work clothes, though Musichetta has a thing for knowing how to dress well. It's very useful for two people as clueless as Bo and I, and it also makes her even easier to look at than she already would be.

"Both of you appear to be very stimulated..." She started off loudly, but it turned soft, as we each nuzzled adoringly into her neck.

We stopped and all sat down together on the sofa in the lounge. It was late now, and I got up to close over the curtains. I knew that Bossuet would have wanted to talk to Musichetta about what happened today, but I couldn't deal with that right now. So whenever I turned around, I jumped on top of them enthusiastically, causing Moo to moan slightly, and then run her hand through my hair. Bossuet didn't say anything but put his large arms around both of us, and snuggled Moo closer to me.

"Such an example of alleviation has been calling me since the very beginning of my shift," she murmured. I enjoyed listening to her way with words that I could never seem to match up to. She was writing a book both for her degree and for fun.

"Poor Moo," cooed Bo. She smiled at her nick-name.

"We should probably get jobs too." I suggested, after thinking. It wasn't really fair.

"Maybe I'll get one." Bo said.

"Same here." I added. Bo stiffened and I worried.

"It's okay, Joe." He hardly ever called me that. I didn't want to think about why he was acting so protectively. I was expecting the only person in the room who hadn't been here for earlier's incident to ask, but she didn't. Maybe she assumed he was just being kindly.

Our conversation moved on to a number of topics, most of which I can't remember now. I forgot, during that time, about my worries I forgot about what happened. That's what so great about my partners, I could forget around them. I didn't need to worry.

The rest of our evening after we had relaxed together was spent doing a very active activity that took us into early hours. Bossuet didn't forget to mention the idea I had earlier, and we tried that out. It didn't work but I didn't care. I was lucky. I was very lucky indeed.

**Hey you:) **

**I don't know if this is okay or not so if you'd review that would be soo great:) I don't think I'm the best with words, but I hope the storyline is okay. I haven't written in years so I dunno I guess I'm just worried about how it is. Even if you reviewed annonymusly that would be wonderful, and it doesn't have to be long:) **

**Thanks soo much for reading this far anyway! :D**


	4. A Recurring Illness That Kills

A Recurring Illness That Affected More than Just the Person Who Had It

**Heya! Someone followed my story which is great! Thank you person:D It's very encouraging, because I don't have very many views. **

**I'm not sure if this was disappointing, or what? If you could review anything that would be great! Something I can improve on maybe so other people will like it. Maybe the summery wasn't good (though I changed that), maybe it's my writing style, maybe it's the way the story is told, or you want more cute relationship stuff in it or whatever. PLEASE let me know! Thanks to anyone reading this:) Hope you like this chapter:)**

A few days later I woke up with a sore tongue. A lot of people would bite their tongue in the middle of the night, because the tongue is a very reactive muscle. When you bite down it will snatch itself back and your teeth clamp down, and that's whenever you wake up with a sore tongue and realise what's going on. Having the profound interest in medicine that I do, I felt the need to check it out in a mirror.

My tongue was clear. It was fleshy pink with darker red dots as it had always been- like it was meant to be.

I had to have a shower because I was going to a lecture at half nine today. I showered, and checked my tongue again on the way into the hall, but still felt dissatisfied.

Breakfast was my usual, buttered toast. I don't really have the effort for much else, and my taste buds don't really work at this time of the morning so everything tasted the same to me. It would be such a waste to have good food now. When I was done eating, I brushed my teeth as normal. After this I took another look at my tongue, and I spotted it, and my stomach heaved.

There was a patch of white over the side of my tongue. It looked like little bits of icing, but whenever I poked it with my finger it didn't remove itself. Ahhhhh! There's something attached to me!

Immediately my head started working through a list of possible diagnosis. Oral cancer can cause red or white patches, but any of the ones I've seen have been very severe. This patch was small and white with a rough texture. Flip. What else? Oral thrush. White, pink and red patches arrive and start to invade your whole mouth, covering it with disease and menacing colours come to destroy your mouth's comfort and happiness. Though oral thrush is usually in other areas of the tongue, those evil soldiers like to invade the top of your tongue, or the roof of your mouth, covering it with a deathly snow or little white circles. Nope. Not that.

What else was there? I racked my brain, going through memories of lectures and medical text books and Wikipedia and other online surfing. My mind haltered at the word HIV. _You have it, _the kind, caring voice said._ There isn't anything you can do. You probably gave it to your 'lovers' too you selfish little bitch. _I didn't even retaliate.

Hairy leukoplakia.

It's a sign of Aids.

And I have it.

I have the sign.

Could this get any worse?

_You have it and you've given it to them too. Well aren't you disgusting. _I didn't think it could. This was my worst nightmare. To be a hypochondriac and have aids. Of course, it's anyone's worst nightmare. I didn't want to have aids. I have aids. I have aids. I started to panic; I didn't know what to do. AIDS AIDS I HAVE AIDS!

Of course you do with the way you've been carrying on, said the voice. It was stronger again, less easy to ignore. Three people in one bed? That's pretty much what you deserve. Thanks. No problem- you're disgusting. Thanks again. No matter what anyone says you're disgusting. Woop. You should cut your tongue off. No! What? With a knife. Get a knife and saw it off. I will not. Will you not? Can you really stand that on your tongue? You have aids you're going to die anyway. I'm not listening to you. You are. Not. Yes you are. Nope, go away. Get a knife. Go away. Get a knife now. Leave leave leave. Get a fucking knife now. Stop it! Not until you get a knife. KNIFE! I don't want to. I'll make you want to. KNIFE! You'll get a knife now or I won't leave you alone until you do, and you know what I can do to you. No nonononononono. You know what to do Joly.

I took another look into the mirror to inspect my tongue again. And to imagine how good it would be to cut if off. Stop interrupting my thoughts again. No. Yes. No.

I was shocked, I took my tongue in my fingers and turned it on its side. It was gone! There was no white stuff. My tongue was clear~ I was clear! _Hallelujah_! It wasn't there, so I didn't have Hairy leukoplakia. And if I didn't have hairy leukoplakia then… I didn't have the disease that was coupled with it: AIDS. I was clear! Ah! I've just been diagnosed and now I am clear! I felt a tonne of relief. I didn't know where it had gone though. I closed my mouth again and for a moment my mind was clear.

The room seemed so much brighter now I've made this discovery I felt like I could get on with my life. I didn't have it. I didn't have AIDS. That was all I ever wanted; to be clear. I washed the saliva off my hands and left the room.

The world was full of peace again. My head was full of peace. I was so proud of my discovery, I checked again before I left. Just to make sure, just to see my cleanness. Flip. No…WHY?

I didn't even have to open up my mouth properly to see the mounds of white spots that filled it. There wasn't even any room left! FLIPPIN' WHY? I had gone from being completely clean to THIS.

I felt disgusted; my mouth was covered with this white disease. From top to bottom: every inch. There was more white than there was red in there. I felt like being sick, I wanted to vomit it all out, I wanted to paint it red so I didn't have to see it there every time I opened my mouth. I stood in front of the mirror opening and closing my mouth with shock. I eventually felt so disgusted I gagged and swallowed any vomit that came with it. Ugh no. I felt infested by it. The disease had come and taken over my insides. I felt more bile wobbling about in my stomach.

I slammed the front door shut. This time I had little hesitation when walking to out lovely, homely kitchen. _That's it. Keep going the way you are now, Joly. It'll be alright._ I looked into the cupboard to find the kitchen utensils I yearned for._ This is the way to do it Joly, look for the sharpest ones_. KNIFE! AIDS! I noticed now that the voice had turned from angry and hostile to sweet and gentle. It didn't help calm my nerves though, I was shaking with anticipation, but it was nice to experience it in this format. I slid the largest knife out of its slot and set it on the desk. The doctor in me told me to sanitise it first. _Good idea, Joly._ Well done!

I went over to the kettle and filled it with water, and left it boil while retrieving a plastic jug to pour it into. I removed the kettle from its stand and poured out the contents into the clear jug, at a height that the knife was long. KINFE! It wasn't an overly big knife, it had to fit into my mouth after all, but it was a very sharp one. _It's nice and smooth, isn't it Joly? It'll do the job perfectly; for us._

I left the knife to soak. AIDS! KNIFE! AIDS! The house had been quiet until I heard some moving around upstairs. AIDS! It didn't matter, I concentrated on my job. I went over the structure of the tongue in my head, looking for the best place to slice through. KNIFE KNIFE KNIFE KNIFE!

You're doing so well the voice said, and I felt pride at the praise I'd received.

I zoned out all other senses, and focused on my job. Looking at my frosty white tongue in the reflection of the cooker, I lifted the knife out of the boiling water with a tea towel. _That's it._

I took the knife slowly over, and positioned it on my tongue, leaning over the cooker to get the best view in the shiny, silver surface. Aids…. It reflected what I needed to see. Knife…..The best bit to remove it. Aids…I needed to get rid of all this white, I thought. Knife….And you will, the voice said.

I moved it about in the search for an area I was satisfied with. Near the back it was plump and juicy, and my heart was telling me to go there, so I did. I pressed down hard, and already started to see the reapings of my desire. Blood poured down my tongue onto my lips. It looked so divinely red over the whiteness of my tongue. I wanted more red. I didn't want white. White was disgusting. I didn't like white. White. A white hand touched mine. It was firm and not gentle. It altered the positioning of mine away from my tongue, and it brought the knife with it, removing it from my hands. I wanted it back. Where did the KNIFE go?

Blood continued to drip down my tongue, I could taste it so clearly. The white stuff was still there , though it was covered in red, making a weird combination colour, red and white usually makes pink. White. A white arm brought me over to a seat and I sat down, but I wanted my knife back. I wanted rid of the white on my tongue. White. A white woman came over to me with clean cotton wool and asked me to hold it in my mouth. I did. Because I recognised her.

She had tired eyes and her hair was messier than normal, which is usually not messy at all. She has very pale, ivory skin, but that was something I'd liked about her. Her dark wavy hair contrasted beautifully, and her skin was so clear and so almost perfect it made her look stunning, even at eight in the morning, when she was woken up by the bang of a door that was the result of her hypochondriac boyfriend becoming angry, and then found him wanting to cut off his tongue.

Her eyes were usually mystic, they were green and I'd always associated them with someone along the lines of a fortune teller, especially whenever she did those black swirly things with her make-up. And now she had foretold from that one noise that something was up. Someone needed morning they looked tired and concerned. I felt bad; I didn't want her to have to deal with this.

After waiting a few minutes, she asked me to lift up the cotton wool and she checked underneath it to see if it was still bleeding. Apparently dissatisfied with the results, she sighed and placed in back in again and pushed up my chin to shut my mouth. She left the door open as she rushed out to get Bo.

Whenever Bo came my guilt multiplied but I didn't say anything, I couldn't really- I mean my mouth was full of fluffy cotton wool.

"Are you okay?" Moo asked me, her voice gentle, and much more genuine than the one in my head had ever been. I nodded. Bo sighed, and I felt my eyes stinging again.

"We'll bring you to the hospital in moment, okay?" said Bo and I nodded again. I was worried about missing my medical lecture, but even if my tongue was working I knew I wouldn't have had the ability to talk myself out of going to the hospital now.

Moo put her arm around my shoulders and leaned on them, while Bo informed us that he was going to get dressed. I leaned on her head, mouth still full of cotton wool. Suddenly she looked up at me, I could see she was upset but trying to hide and it made me feel even worse. Her voice was quiet and slightly broken. She broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, I just need to ask you- why did you do it?"

I couldn't answer. Not mentally- I wanted her to know what was going on, but physically.

There was a notepad on the wooden worktop and I fetched it, as well as pencil. I wrote slowly.

_I have a disease, it's called hairy leukoplakia. That's why all the white spots on my tongue and mouth are there. It's not fatal, but I'm sorry Moo, I didn't know until today, but it is coupled with AIDS. That means I have AIDS. _

I didn't know how she was going to react whenever she read it. I didn't want her to read it, because I didn't want to bear her the news of my having AIDS. No-one wanted their friend to have it, never mind someone who had been their partner for over two years, both for their sake and the sake of the person they love. I don't know how I would feel in her position, I feel bad enough in mine.

She kissed me on the cheek and leaned in my shoulder. I could feel the tears soaking into my shirt but I didn't want to disturb her. She needed this time to cry. I needed time to cry, but I hadn't let myself do that yet. I held it in as I held her.

I heard her whisper softly in my ear.

_"There aren't white spots on your tongue."_

I felt many emotions following that sentence, relating to those words. But the one I remember most, and this was because I so rarely felt it, was a confusing feeling of being completely lost.


	5. Hide and Seek with Viruses, Anyone?

That Period of my Life Whenever All the Illnesses I Knew Grew Legs and Started Chasing After Me

**Thanks so much for the review, it was soo lovely:) **

**Hope you guys like this:)**

For someone who hasn't experienced these, and I hope you never will, hallucinations feel like everyone and everything around you telling you one thing, but common sense telling you something else. Maybe a friend on common sense's side aswell. It's a fight between them, and it's a difficult one.

Sometimes common sense leaves you for that time, sometimes you friend isn't there to tell you, and the hallucinations are all you have. Your surrounded by a million things telling you, each in their own different ways that what you're seeing, what you're hearing, what you're thinking is real. No matter how implausible it seems, it's real. I feels real. The emotions that come with it are very real.

I don't know if they're real. I definitely don't know at the time, but even later on whenever I think about it, remember it, I don't know. Yes, being a medical student I do understand the whole concept of what a hallucination is, and I suppose I'm leaning on the side that they're not really plausible, but in some ways it just feels like I'm special because I'm the only one who can see these things.

It's like how there are seven waves on the electromagnetic spectrum. Our eyes can only detect visible light rays, and they're the ones that give us the images of what is around us.. But it's like I can see one of the other ones, and no-one else can. Like I'm seeing the radio waves, but nobody else's eyes can pick up on this, just me, alone. That was the only conclusion I could come to about people who I knew were telling the truth, and even that's a terrible one. I wanted it to be true.

I don't want hallucinations; the whole idea of having an illness is just horrible. It's so unavoidable and so life-changing and we just have to sit here and wait and see if we will ever get one and hope that we won't and hope that if we do it's curable and that everything we be okay.

How can we prevent it? You can eat healthily every day, exercise, get jabs to prevent it and wear coats in the winter do you won't get a cold, you can be careful not to touch or go near someone who has an illness and always remember to cook your food properly; but still die of cancer at the age of 22. And there isn't anything we can do about it, and that's what happens.

Here we are, living, and hoping that that fate won't be ours.

But anyway. I wanted you to know what hallucinations felt like, and what hypochondria is like before I continued my tale.

The illness I saw on my tongue had faded away. One day it was white dots that covered my mouth, that evening it was a small amount of white fur on my upper tongue, and the next one it was gone.

Neither Musichetta nor Bossuet could see any of this. We went to the hospital and the staff were annoyed at such a minor injury, and I was embarrassed about having to work with them later and if they'd remember me. They told us to keep ice on it for a while until the bleeding went away completely; it had died down significantly by the time we got there.

They didn't ask me again about why I had done it. I didn't think about how crazy it might seem, how sick it was, because I didn't feel like was. I understood why it seemed logical and necessary at the time. And I didn't want to think of myself as being 'crazy'.

My tongue healed with time, but my head didn't.

We had moved on from that incident, but I continued to check my tongue almost every time I saw a mirror. I looked around each side of it, lifted it up a few times and pulled back my cheeks in order to not make a mistake. I wanted to be clear. I was worried about its return, plus I kept on being told that I would contract something from my head.

It started off with the dust on the surface of tables, of computers and that filled grooves that we couldn't physically reach into to retrieve it. There were many tiny white dots in our house. You can even see them in the air. It's like snow, but less exciting, smaller and they just kind of float seemingly without capability to understand that gravity exists. I mean really, they're only made of the materials that can be found near you. They're made of small amounts of plant pollen, hairs, textile and paper fibres and skin cells that we see gathered on our surfaces that we haven't bothered hoover recently.

The presence of them got me thinking. When we look carefully, we can see dust. We can see their unwanted invasion of our property. We can see them, and we can ignore them, or we can do something about them to get rid of them. Their visibility to us makes them easier to control, we know where they are, we know what they're doing, and if we want to get of it, we can do that too. They are small, and they take effort to notice, but if we really want to, we can look into their right eyes, and remove them.

What we can't see- what is there on every surface but is invisible to the naked eye: is micro-organisms, and specifically, or really, the only ones I care about: the ones that cause disease.

I mean, you think how much dust there is, think of how many of these must be there, they're usually too small to see. And they're crawling everywhere. Infesting worktops, keyboards, even toothbrushes with their anti-health protests. I kept seeing them.

I saw them crawling about on the surfaces of everything. Whenever I watched TV they were crawling about the screen, they wondered over the sofa, towards me, they jumped from surface to surface, all to spread the disease to infest us with infections. And all towards me, they wanted to scare me. They knew I cared, they knew I was worried. And it worked.

These organisms weren't small, they were quite big, but varying in size, shape and colour. Some of them had a sausage-like shape, but were green in appearance, and had legs. Some were like conkers, covered with spikes, purple, red and brown. Others were circle shapes and they all rolled in my direction.

Each of them had the single intention of stamping on health like that was what they lived for. That's what they got a kick out off. They enjoy making my insides crawl, feel uncomfortable, my chest to tighten up and my brain to fry with worry.

I know they can't be real, I know, for a fact that micro-organisms have a tendency to be _micro_scopic. I mean, I've studied them under a microscope before, observed their size and relative scale with my own eyes, I know.

But it didn't matter. I could see them now. Crawling after me. Watching me. Waiting for me to catch whatever disease they carry. Ugh. Go away please.

I could see their many colours, shapes and sizes, and what made my heart freeze: I could see their fatal potential.

You can imagine this stirred up many panic attacks and strange reactions. I ran away from them many times, but they followed me. I'd keep running. Sometimes it would be just into another room. Other times it would be further. As things progressed I started getting the metro to far off places on the other side of the city, and to other cities and regions of France. I'd planned many times to go to Europe, but I couldn't leave Bo nor Moo behind. But I just wanted to get away.

They followed me. Why did they follow me? Running away is no use. I might aswell have been licking the bacteria I see off the surfaces on which I see them would have been. I needed to find other methods of protection.

Underneath the cupboard under the sink is our bottle of bleach. I found it, opened it, poured it, and scrubbed it. Everywhere. I didn't miss a fibre of a surface. I needed this. I went over them time and time again. I didn't even wear gloves. My hands were so sore, so raw and tingly. The pain made me want to cut them off at times. My muscles were aching, after all the vigorous scrubbing I did in vain. I was boiling, I was too warm but I continued my mission to rid myself of these creatures. My clothes become stained and wet and it soaked through and the bleach hurt my skin but I didn't stop. I was so uncomfortable and in so much pain, and yet they kept on crawling. Defying me, hurting my head and my heart.

What I could see what that while scrubbing a surface as hard and as fast as I could, there were no bacteria. Once I removed the sponge and my hand from the surface- I could see them once again. Crawling around, wiggling and squirming, looking for me; trying to catch me.

The hot, boiling water that I poured over them flowed over their bodies, with no effect. How was this even possible? Many micro-organisms die at such a high temperature, maybe not all of them, but a majority. They still lived! Why didn't some of them even get caught up in the flow of the waterfall? Why couldn't that just happen?

I wasn't really able to do much then other than obsess over them, no matter what anyone said. People tell you you're crazy and that may be what you feel, but that doesn't make these thoughts, these 'hallucinations' any less real or scary. They say that they're not really there but that's not what my eyes, my brain, my emotions are informing me.

Even if these aren't real- it doesn't eliminate the existence of micro-organisms. They're still there. They still crawl every surface. And they are still out there to kill.

I think I'm a hypochondriac because I think about these possibilities. I think about the worst thing that will happen, and I worry about it happening to me. If you can- don't.

I can't stop thinking about illnesses but I want you to know- there isn't a point. We might as well enjoy our healthy moments, even our sick ones as best as we can; otherwise what are we really doing with our lives?

I can't stop thinking about illnesses, but I haven't ever told you if I'm worrying about something and I never will. I would never want you to have that around your head- I want your head to be clear and I want you to be free to enjoy whatever moments you have.

There's no point in worrying about sickness- if it happens it does and it'll be okay because you'll have enjoyed those moments when you weren't well, and you'll think about how great they are, and you'll fight to get better. Don't worry like I did.


	6. I Have Friends Outside of My Head

Yes; My Only Friends Aren't Just the Voices in My Head, I Have Got Others

**Heya:) I have been updating every day I think since I began, but I'm warning you that I have to go to school on Tuesday and I'm starting the first year of my A levels(exams) so unfortunately I'll really have to focus on them, cause I'm not sure if I'll get to do the job I want with the GCSE (other exams) grades I got. Anyway, I'm writing ahead of updating though, so I have extra chapters to put up just in case I am unable to write for a while.**

**Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this, it's the first chapter with people other than Moo, Bo and Joly. I found it hard to say what the Les Amis actually do, so I just said they organise trips and stuff to help people. Hopefully that's okay:) Also I apologise for any crap jokes I make. And if you have any suggestions or constructive criticism PLEASE, PLEASE let me know! Thank you:)**

I didn't realise it but at the time my illness was effecting more than occasional crazy moments that I tried to forget and my thought process. It effected Bo, Moo (though Bo and Moo I kind of picked up on and felt really guilty about) Comferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Grantaire, Jehan, Feuilly and Bahorel. And of course I didn't know that it would affect you, and how much I would care about that.

See: I was in denial. I know now I was in denial. I didn't want to have an illness: that scared me to my medullary cavity- the inside of my bones. I still don't want to get one. I kept on making up excuses for things that came with my mental illness; anything I couldn't make up for I said would get better. Just to wait. I didn't want to see someone because I didn't want to believe it was there. I'm not a particularly person- I just desperately didn't want to have something wrong with me.

If I had of realised how much it was affecting me I think I would have done something about it right whenever I first had imagined something that did make sense. Most of all out of this, I regret missing you, but I regret the pain I must've caused to my friends too, though they never let me get myself down about it to this day.

My place in the Musain for the majority of the time since my naked incident had been empty. Moo and Bo just wouldn't let me go. After I had gone to hospital with my cut tongue, and covered our house with bleach and water and we got a new TV I returned. I have to inform you that I was still seeing diseases and I was still denial at this point, but the time had made me miss the meetings and seeing everybody, so I went anyway.

A number of them were smiling anyway, but when I came they all looked upon me with delight, hearts filled with hope about change, including my change into becoming better.

"Hey guys!" I exclaimed, happy upon my return. "Look," I pointed to my body "Back into clothes again. Thought I'd give them a go this time!"

A few of them chuckled and Bo laughed a little too loudly.

I talked to a few of them then. Bahorel was messing around with Courfeyrac; fake fighting like puppies. Jehan watched them laughing, with a few flowers in his golden hair.

"How are you?" asked Combferre.

"I'm pretty great thanks." I replied. I didn't want to dwell on how I was doing.

"Pretty great as in…" interrupted Grantaire, I knew he was joking around.

"Yes I am also astoundingly attractive, thanks." I joked back. He scoffed.

"What all have I missed?" I questioned them. It was Combferre who spoke up.

"Not too much. We've been preparing our trip to Southern France, working out ways to raise money. Jehan's book is doing well, especially because he said the money for it would go to a charitable cause. Enjorlas spoke in front of his lecture class as well; they received a reasonable donation from that. And we've been trying to persuade R to sell some of his work here." He nudged Grantaire, who looked down.

"That sounds great!" I exclaimed. "Why wouldn't you Grantaire- come on we all know you're amazing." And he was. He painted a lot of drawings of Parisian buildings and scenes out in the country for his degree, in an unusual, modern style. But he also did some graffiti around town, which Enjolras would have had a fit over had it not been so good. He left a trail of doodles where he went, including tempory tattoos or marks on his arms to avoid doing something that would cause scars. I looked at his arms now and from the part that wasn't concealed in a hoodie I could see a proliferation of them.

"Nope. Ha-ha. You guys can do much better without me." Whenever he looked up he said to me "What? Why are you staring?" and I realised I was.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

"Are _you _okay?" he replied. I didn't like to see him like this, whether it was because of the whole Enjolras thing or if his cynism or lack of self-belief had creeped up on him again I didn't want to see him unhappy. I hugged him but his confused expression remained the same, it was like I had missed something.

Enjolras entered, well more like stormed in to be honest, his movements were strange and cat-like, and they always had been. For once he had a smile on his face and not his usual lack of emotion that we'd all gotten used to. Grantaire immediately turned his attention to him and so did I; I'd missed out on his speeches. I really had. All of this sickness had got to my head and I'd missed Enjolras' amazing speeches. His speeches I had missed.

I looked around at all my friends and felt delight in their movements. Most people had turned to face the front, where Enjolras was standing, with enthusiasm on their bright faces. Only a few were still talking and messing around at the back, but I knew they would turn around soon. I looked at Enjolras myself, the light coming in from the window behind him. Something shifted in my brain that was hard to place. Why couldn't I just be normal? I concentrated on his face.

Why was he smiling? Why was he showing emotion? I made me uncomfortable, feel weird. Things were shifting in my head. I could hear purring over my shoulder. I turned around and saw the shadow of a cat in the window.

"Stop what you are doing and listen!" The room went silent with the power of his voice. "One of the highlights of this year's mission is upcoming, and I have received the good news regarding that fact. The Church has heard of our plans and is, despite their own debts, willing to contribute a sum of money if we bring members of their congregation with us. And that is good. Friends, this is what we want, what we strive for, and what will help us reach our common goals. We needed money, and God has provided, and now we are also receiving more members, more people willing to fight for our cause." He paused and we all cheered. I felt alive, more alive then my deadening brain had let me feel for a while.

The momentum was building up with each word, Enjolras' passion kindling the fire within our hearts. He moved around sleekly, whenever he was talking. Swaying about, head held up to the Heavens, his tail moving around in time with his words.

"It is definitely a sign for us to continue. What we are doing will reap goods, it will help, and we all know that we need to help out. As a society, we all have a want to do good, an inclination to act in a way that will bring happiness to others and we receive the gift of happiness ourselves from that."

I could hear Grantaire cough in the corner. I would assume it were a fur ball or something if I didn't know how to be so adamant about his cynicism and doubts in the good will of the world.

"And we are reminded, on this occasion in the format of the Church's alliance of this fact, which we weren't expecting," he glared at Grantaire while he said it. "It will be proven time and time again."

"By many!" added in Courfeyrac, his voice full of enthusiasm, his eyes were big and bright.

"By all, you mean!" Feuilly joined in. He raised a glass full of alchohol. I wanted to jump up on the table and join in on this excitement. I wanted to get onto the table and scratch my claws into it with a raw feeling of excitement and joy.

"Yes!" Exclaimed Enjolras "that will happen. We are a small group now, but we can grow there are many more with the same ideals. And even now, as small as we are, we make a difference."

Yes yes yes yes yes! I said in my head.

"Even in the numbers that we have it is possible for us to achieve change, but how encouraging is it to think of the numbers that exist with the same ideas? And so it is also very important for us to try and reach out to them. With our hands, our heads, our voices and our advertisements. We must be heard. Silence would be a downfall, we must cry out to those with that are willing to help. We will cry out and they will adhere to our calling."

I was loving it, I loved being here and I loved the passion that most of us felt. I felt like everyone would be able to hear our meows strongly and clearly. Meows? What? That isn't right. People don't listen to cats. Cats are pets. No-one cares about our opinion. "For the whole world has ears, and the population though often busy with their lives, will be enlightened by this cause if we just sing it to them." I didn't understand I couldn't understand why cats would be singing; we don't sing. We lounge about, look for food, scratch against posts.

I looked around the room at their furry faces. Something was up. Something was wrong with them. Why did they think they would listen to us as cats? What could we do? Scratch the message into the pavement with our claws. Crawl into some rich man's house and give the money to a homeless person. We're pets!

I started to get worried as I looked around the room. Enjolras was at the top, he was standing up like a cat shouldn't. Why was he doing this? It didn't make any sense. Most of my other friends we standing up as well, a few sat at the table which appeared even odder. What's wrong with everyone? Why couldn't we just get food and lounge around or something? That's what cats do, right? Why do we think we can change anything?

My breathing hitched up and one furry body moved closer mine. Why did that furry body think he could change anything? I looked at the person who had been mostly silent for this whole meeting. Grantaire was drinking alcohol. What- this was not good for a cat. I can't imagine their system being able to deal with this. The whole world seemed weird and foreign- I JUST CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHY THEY'RE DOING THIS!

I grabbed the bottle from his paws and quickly ran over to the window and chucked it out. I didn't want to see him poisoned and I couldn't understand why he was doing this. My weirdly heavy body almost tripped over some people, who I noticed where looking at me. Buried in Grantaire's furry grey face we wide open eyes and his mouth was left open.

"You need to have water or something! Or milk! Have milk! We all like milk!"

He spat out, almost hissing at me in surprise: "Joly? What do you mean?"

"Look guys this just doesn't make sense. We need to stop this nonsense." As I said this I could feel the whole room staring at me in shock, my stomach sank: nothing made sense! Why were they being so unfair to me? "I'm sorry, but we need to get back on the street. We are not changing the world."

A number of people spoke to me then, I wasn't sure if they'd become angry or realise that I was right and as cats we wouldn't even be able to apply for a non-world-changing job. I couldn't hear most of them.

Enjolras said "You've never expressed this before. I'm not sure you're okay, Joly. Home again?"

I DO NOT NEED TO GO HOME!

"We're _cat's_ for goodness sake! Guys! Why aren't you listening? We meow and we eat food and roll around and sometimes be sick on our owner's carpet we do not change the world." I was so full of frustration and anger. My head hurt like it had been stuffed full of those scarfs I tore up a few weeks ago.

Jehan stepped down off his chair, tail in the air, eyes full of sadness. WHY?

Feuilly said "I'm sorry Joly. Look, you should go." NO HOME. NO HOME RIGHT NOW I DON'T NEED IT.

Bahorel had been previously shouting along at the back, now we only took a sip of beer. WHY? WHY IS HE TAKING BEER?

Combferre put his arm around me for a minute. "It's okay, Joly. It'll be fine. There are plenty of services available for you. I know some really lovely, caring people for you." FOR ME? NO IT ISN'T OKAY! NO-ONE IS LISTENING! NO-ONE CARES! AND NO-ONE UNDERSTANDS THAT JOLY DOES NOT NEED "SERVICES"! JOLY EXPRESSES THE TRUTH THAT EVERYONE IS IGNORING RIGHT NOW.

Grantaire hardly said anything other than, sadly: "Man. This thing's messed."

Bo wrapped his warm paw around my arm and said to me: "Come on Joly, you're fine. We know what you mean." He nodded in a bobble-head way. "I think you've gotten yourself very worked up though, you can have a rest at home."

Someone is close to understanding! I went along with everything he said then. I went home with him and I told him about the cats and he listened and I felt okay. A bit weird but okay. Yeah, I wasn't great but I was okay.

'_Ignorance is bliss.'_

Now that I feel more stable, I can see what they were going through.

Whenever I go over that incident in my head, I can imagine it from their point of view. I'd recommend you read it and do the same. I can see why I said those things, but you can imagine how strange I was acting to everyone else. I go over it again and again in my head and I feel terrible. This wasn't just a onetime thing; they faced my hallucinations often, and more and more often.

I wasn't alone in the pain but I wish I was. I wish I had have known.

I love my friends, but I continued on as if I was fine for far longer that I should have. I ignored their desperate pleas for me to go see someone but I didn't. I didn't want to be not okay and I didn't want to think about what had happened. And these are my friends! My_ friends_! I didn't listen to them when I should have.

Each time one of them said for me to do something about my problems, it worried me more. I didn't know if it would stop, when it would stop and how I could get out of it.


	7. No Offence But You're Really Disguisting

Wow, Everyone Around Me Is Really Disgusting.

I woke up with two arms around me. Two disgusting, dirty arms. I squirmed around to get out of them. They were so tight wrapped around my waist and infesting me, but were thankfully free to let me go whenever they realised what I wanted. Oh gosh. My two partners are diseased. NO NONONO! Joly run away! I don't want them to have something.

I'm such a good doctor. I didn't even need to check them to realise. I know they have something wrong with them. I tried to go through my medical text book in my head, but I couldn't pin one exact illness. I knew they had something. I could feel it! I could see it in them!

They were trying to give you something Joly! That's disgusting. Why would they do that to me? They know I hate disease. They know I wouldn't want them to spread it to me. They don't like you Joly, they want you to die. No. Hmm. I'm confused. RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY NOW OR YOU'LL CONTRACT THEIR DISEASE!

OH GOSH! WHY?

I didn't even put on my clothes. I was so worried about having to get away from their problems. Why would they want to share them with me? I HATE disease!

The keys weren't in their usual place WHY THE FLIPPING BANANAPOOHEAD BUMFACE? I scarpered around quickly, exercising my eyes every second. I was worried about touching those keys, or anything they'd touched. When did they get this disease? Where from? Do I have it?

The gloves we had were so often used by Musichetta. I didn't think we had any new ones. I could get money to buy them, but I didn't know where the money had been, or who it had been touched by. RUN JOLYYYYYYYYY

I have to go a window! A window was open on the other side of the room so I climbed out, trying hard to not touch anything. Whenever I did I almost felt the disease burning into my skin. Crawling through my skin cells, my muscles, my blood. OH MY BLOOD! One of it's main uses to transport substances around the body only caused worry to boil up inside me around whenever I thought about disease spreading. I could only hope that if I had could anything, that the wonderful, heroic team of white blood cells: lymphocytes and phagocytes could work effectively in order to combat such annoying, terrible, horrible, death-causing micro-organisms.

Right outside was too close, I ran into the congregation square near us to get out into the open. Into the sweet, fresh air. Or was it sweet and fresh? NOPE! IT'S DIRTY AND DISEASE-RIDDEN. I put any of those thoughts away. In a drawer. I imagined locking it with a key and throwing it down the dirty drain. Away with ye.

Once had I arrived into the open area I realised how unclean it was. This also meant that I didn't feel any sign of relief or uplifting that I had expected. Some gave me strange looks, probably wondering why I was in so much despair, or why I was still in my pyjamas. I didn't want to be noticed. However, my facial expression could not be avoided given the situation I was in, so I guess it was unavoidable.

Each individual that I could see, each individual that had probably come from a different place, arrived in different ways for different things, and yet they all had one thing in common: they were diseased. Flip me. Why? I don't understand why this is happening to me. My chest started feeling constrainted, the air inside me felt trapped and each breath became harder and worried me more. What kind of a world is this? I get everything I would hate so much.

I could see their diseases staring at me, like they knew I feared them. They knew I hated them, and wanted me to. They wanted to torture me.

I wanted them to go, to leave me be. I wanted everyone to go. But they didn't. Everyone here, in the world maybe, still had medical illnesses and they were out to get me. WHY ARE THERE SO MANY DISEASES HERE? WHY DO THEY WANT ME?

_Because the world hates you, Joly_. GO AWAY!

I kept going over illnesses in my head. There were so many. I hated them all. And here they were, staring at me. I just wanted to leave. In the US alone, 776,000 people are diagnosed with herpes annually. I wanted everything to go. Maybe I should go? Over 2.1 million people suffer from MS (Multiple Sclerosis) worldwide. I left. I walked out of that square, away from everything I feared. But there were more. They were everywhere! WHY DO THEY TAUNT ME SO TERRIBLY! I HATE THEM!

Although most norovirus outbreaks occur throughout the year, over 80% take place between November and April. I didn't know if I was beyond a panic attack. I couldn't feel my hands. I wasn't having one like I've had before. Norovirus outbreaks occur often and it is possible for a person of any age, in a variety of settings to be struck by it. I wanted to be on the ground, head sweltering, feeling cool and warm simultaneously, wanting to die. I wanted to get away. From this all. It hurt it made me hurt and I just wanted it to go. LEAVE ME BE!

My head and heart wanted to run but I didn't know if I could, I felt slightly numb, but in pain at the same time. Which would I prefer? Pain or numbness? If I had been given the choice, I didn't know. But now I had to face both.

Most women or 84% who have BV reported no symptoms.

Maybe that's why. Maybe they didn't know they were ridden with disease. I think they hate you-go away! STOPSTOPSTOPSTTHEYHATEYOUUUUTHEYALLSTOPITDO.

Every year in the US 4,000 infants die suddenly with no immediate explanation.

Ugh. I hate myself.

I have to move though, to move away from this. Somewhere. There has to be somewhere unaffected by this trachery. My legs ached and the ground moved beneath me, and the visions around me were mess up, moving up and down, my brain fixated on the disease infested members of the public.

I think I bumped into something, and worried about who else had touched it. Which disease I could pick up from that. Ugh NO! JOLY THEY'RE ALL OUT TO-I rushed past and could feel the wind, and my head was throbbing. It was horrible. I bumped into someone's arms. Musichetta.

"Joly!" She exclaimed, as she hugged me. She was so warm. But so disease-ridden. I couldn't hold her. I just couldn't. I wanted to, but I was so worried about whatever she has. I just didn't want to get it. I feel bad. Maybe I should. I couldn't look at her.

"Joly?" She asked as I moved myself away from her, far enough that I couldn't feel her heat. "What's wrong? Stop it honey, come here."

"NO!" I shouted. Some people looked over, but I didn't care. I just wanted them to leave, I wanted everyone to leave. I wanted disease to leave this planet. And not take me or anyone I love with it.

My mouth felt weird; dry. I wanted to speak, but at first I felt like I was going to be sick. I started spearking. "I can't… there's too much… contamination there." Words came slowly in the fuzziness of my head. I didn't want to not be able to go home. I like home. I just hate the disease and infection that comes with it.

Same with Musichetta. I love her, but not her virus. Wait- what if I could never touch her again? No you don't want to… She's going to infect you Joly! BUT I WANNA BE WITH HER I CAN'T BE IN A RELATIONSHIP THAT INVOLVES ABSOLUTLY NO PHYSICAL CONTACT

She acted oddly. I felt bad. "Joly… Please." Her eyes moved. "You've disinfected the entire house! Remember? With bleach. You went over everything-"

"NO! It's not enough! It's everywhere!" I spat out. I looked over at her and could see her disease screaming at me. "And you're infected!"

She stared at me before there words came out of her mouth, slowly: "I can authenticate to you that our house is practically… prophylactic to disease; with my regular cleaning rituals, and your aid too."

"Stop using words I don't understand! I can't think, okay? I'm dumb."

"For goodness' sake; you're not stupid." She said.

Yes you are. Yes you are yes you are. You're an idiot that NO-ONE cares about. No-one no-oneno-one no-oneno-oneno-oneno-one…

"Ugh! SHUT UP! WHY DO YOU KEEP ON TALKING? You're not helping my self-confidence."

I HATE YOU. EVERYONE DOES.

"I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!"

I didn't want to, but I started crying with frustration and my head was sore. Musichetta looked away from me, with her head facing the floor.

"Five seconds." She said her voice lower, and walked away a little, not looking at me.

"NOT YOU!" I screamed. I hadn't even realised I said some of that out loud. She looked around for a moment, and her eyes were really very wet. She was facing the other direction with her phone up to her ear. I knew she was talking to Bossuet, and I could only guess what about.

I couldn't make a decision. I feel like my job in life is to protect her, to shield her from pain. She was only a tiny person, it didn't seem to me that she could deal with strong pain or hurt. I was meant to help alleviate it, in any way that I could, not worsen it. But I didn't know if I could now.

Wiping away her tears and comforting her would mean touching her, and that would be a very risky process. Bodily fluids, like tears, for example are a good passage for bacteria to pass disease from one person to the next.

What do I do? I want to hold her but I can't touch her. She meant so much but I couldn't get over my issues with disease to comfort her like I knew I was meant to. I felt frustrated. Two different sides of me were battling it out, and I didn't know what one was winning.

Don't touch her, you'll catch something. You know you will.

Whenever she put her phone back in her pocket, she still faced in the other direction. I didn't want to see her face. I didn't want to see her face so I embraced her from behind, making sure not to come into contact with her skin.

But she wrapped one of her hands around mine, I wanted to take it away, it felt so uncomfortable under the germs but I let it stay, with only a little squirming. She was so tiny and warm. I felt her body lean into mine, and the thought came up that I wasn't wearing a top, and only jammy bottoms. Whoopsies. I guess it didn't ruin the moment though.

"I'm sorry." I whispered into her ear, trying to stay away from her hair.

"Don't be." Her voice cracked. "Bo's coming." She paused and inhaled deeply. "Not everything is disease-ridden Joly. We'll help you see otherwise." She turned around, and there was a droplet sliding down her beautifully blushed cheeks. In that moment, I felt as if she was right; I didn't feel worried.

She leaned in and kissed me softly and warmly, in slow motion. Then she said: "I love you." And I couldn't understand why.

**Thank you to the other reviewer! I missed out a day so anyone could catch up. Have to go to school again tomorrow though so unfortunately I will not be able to update as frequently. Thank you to anyone who's continued reading this. **

**I had written this a little differently originally, I changed a lot of Joly's descriptions of things to help you see he isn't able to think about or understand the real world properly. For example instead of "she seemed offended" I changed it to "she acted oddly". He observes there's a difference but cannot think what it is or what's going on her head. Hope you like that:)**

A review would be lovely, even a small one. I got really excited for the ones I have haha:D And it's really great to hear that anyone is enjoying this. :)


	8. Well, Denial You Fooled Me

Whenever my mind was clouded up nothing was clear to me. But whenever it was free I could see something wrong. Something about Moo's tired eyes and her use of language declining in quality until sometimes she didn't make sense. Something about Bo sleeping a lot and his lack of smiling and the fact that I wasn't in a cloud of happiness and laughter every time I saw him. Something about our house; about our TV not working, about the wet marks on walls and the scratches on others. Something told me something was up with us.

I didn't want to think about illness, so I hadn't really noticed how they would feel about it. And if you think I was making an effort to ignore everything that was wrong, I was making an even stronger one to not notice the pain of my family.

Bossuet had sorted everything out with Uni, telling them I couldn't go back for a while. I didn't know how he'd done it but I knew he said something to them from the time I question him about what they would be thinking of my absence. He replied "S'all good. Keep it out of your mind, you'll make a wonderful doctor one day."

Everything Bo and Me were saying was so positive, so encouraging, and I felt so unsure. They never condoned my actions- never ever ever. They never said anything to make me worry about them. They let me react in whatever manner they did, and helped me get through it. They didn't say anything about mental illness to get me worried, and they never used words such as 'psychiatrist' or 'hospital' or 'problem' when suggesting that I would seek help. Each time I was in denial and each time I missed the pained look in their eyes whenever I refused to listen.

They took it in turns to stay home with me, never wanting me to have to be alone with my thought. Sometimes that didn't even help, others they were able to stop me.

AGHHHHHH! THE ILLNESSES! That's them all after you! Run Joly! Run run run! OH MY FLIPFLIPFLIPFLIPFLIPRAWR. We need to go! They're chasing after us Joly. Time to leave! Leave what? Life! NO! JUST LEAVE THE ILLNESSES! Leaving life would be a good way to do that…. RUNRUNRUNRUNNope, I will run from them and I will fight them. I will not give up. Do you really believe that? Everywhere we go; they're there. And they're out to get YOU. They want you dead! NOPE! I will BREAK FREE FROM THIS! No you can't! How long and how many times must I say? Nope. Go AWAY! LET'S LEAVE! LIFE? WHAT? NO! YOU HEARD WHAT I SAID WHY DID YOU SAY WHAT WE'RE BOTH HERE YOU KNOW WHAT I TELL YOU WELL MAYBE I DIDN'T WANT TO LISTEN TO YOU OH WELL THAT'S VERY RUDE I AM GIVING YOU MY HELP AND ADVICE! YEah, well I don't like your 'advice'. You don't have to live with it. You don't have to live at all. But I WANT TO! Joly nobody wants you! They give you weird looks, you're a burden to them, and they wish you would disappear too. TOO? I don't wish I was gone! I wish you were gone! Well I'm always here, a permanent fixation so maybe you should just leave life. Walk away from all your problems- because no-one wants you alive.

I didn't want to hear it. But it was in my head, loud and clear. Telling me to go. Telling me that's what everyone wanted out of me; my absence.

Around the scene was blurry lines of many colours. I was moving quickly, somewhere. I don't know if I was bumping into people or not. I fixed my eyes in the sky, stumbling with nowhere in mind to go; I just followed the blue sky.

WE CAN LEAVE THIS BEHIND JOLY! Live among the clouds. I don't want to die yet. Come on. I know that's not true. Really? Cause I know it is. I think you should die! Nope, you're disgusting. Ewwwwww. Childish much? Go away. NOBODY WANTS YOU HERE! I don't want you here! They're probably at home wishing for you to just go away forever, I'd imagine God wants you to go away as well into someone else's hands because nobody wants you and nobody cares. That's horrible. HA! Stop it. I will get through this. Yep, that's why you're managing so well now. SHUT UP! I am having some TROUBLE that will GO AWAY eventually. Plus tonnes of people who have problems, which I don't, turn out to be fine and I know that God cares about me... I know they do care, God cares about me and I don't want to die.. You know what I hate? You. STOP IT! NO ONECARE NOONEECARES ABOUT YOU…YES YES THEY DO STOP IT STOP BEING STUPID NO NONONONONOONECARESssssssssssssssssssssss….YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE? ITS FUNNYYOU THINK PEOPLE DO. AW COME NO ON NO THIS NO IS NOONE JUST NOONE STUPID CARES!

Sometime during my internal monologue I grasped on either shoulder, by someone in a police uniform. I was on my knees on the floor and eyes were blurry, my head, sore, I felt sick, I didn't know if I was going to be sick as I coupled over and dug my nails into my hair, and my skin, scratching hard and tearing it away in frustration. Flakes of white skin cells covered the ground in front of me. Whenever I saw the scarlet red dripping onto the surface of the pavement the colour fascinated me, and I continued.

My hands were being moved around, taken away from me. They didn't move of their own accord; they were taken from me. I felt pressure around my wrists, something warm and reasonably soft. They were then wrapped around cold hardness, and warm pressure was applied to my shoulders. I tried to move my hands about but found it was impossible.

The sound of voices filled me ears and not my head. I still felt warm and cold on the inside, like I was boiling up, like I was being cooked in a microwave from the inside out, but it was uneven and had chill spots. I crushed my eyelids together to try to make myself concentrate. I knew I could hear something. I tried to tune in, to listen to what was being said. With increased concentration levels, my head experienced increased pain.

"hmmmmhhh"

"hmmeeemmoooh?"

"Hehhooo?

"Helllllo?"

"Hello? Are you okay? Hello? Hello?"

I opened my eyes, and things were still quite blurry, and my head was sore from the voices and working hard trying to tune in. I saw a white face, and dark hair. Gravity wavered and I felt my body moving from side to side, swaying. The face was still there. I saw grey eyes and pink lips. I blinked a few times and noticed that he had quite long eyelashes, his eyebrows were messy and he had light side burns.

I lifted my hand to hit myself to help get into gear but then I remembered the metal, which was handcuffs and I felt pain in my arms. I looked around a few times and blinked before focusing on the curves of his lips, and a few wrinkles under his eyes and each individual eyebrow hair.

"Are you alright?" I realised he was asking me.

"Emm…. Yeah. I'm fine."

"It's okay. Look can you remember the number of someone you know who can help you?" he asked, kindly. I looked down at my arms upon them suddenly becoming stingy and I questioned the presence of the handcuffs in my expression, apparently.

"Oh, we were worried about you hurting yourself. I'll take them off soon. Now can you recall any numbers? One of your friends, or your parents even?"

"Em. Yeah sure." I gave him Bossuet's number and I hoped that he answered and hoped he was okay to get me and I hoped that I hadn't been running for long.

I leaned over in pain, my head and my arms mostly. What had I done to them? I didn't even want to think. You could pick up infections so easily with open wounds, and if I'd done it with my nails, which luckily I had trimmed recently, then I could be dealing with a number of things here. Don't think about it! Don't think about it!

It felt like a long time before Bossuet arrived, I didn't even hear them ringing him to let him know. His face was expressionless, and he thanked the policemen and women who were there. We left in his car and going home took half the amount of time it did for him to arrive.

Whenever we entered home I sat motionless on the couch and Bossuet was beside me, as always. We watched TV and hugged until Moo came home. I decided to have a shower, I just wanted to wash everything away. I didn't know what to do, I talked to God for once in my life because I didn't know what else to do.

Fortunately, the effects were immediate. I felt uplifted at last.

I stepped out of the shower and heard voices. No, not those ones, ones from outside. Upset ones. I got changed as silently as I could. I didn't want to go outside into the world but I couldn't not. The noises were coming from our bedroom. My ears listened closely, and my heart was filled with pain.

"It's just so frigging hard." Moo sniffed, violently, causing my heart to shake. "I don't know what to do. I never know what to do or how to help him."

"Me neither." There was a pause. "I started Praying for him."

"Wow. You must be getting really desperate." She almost laughed, but it was coupled with her chest heaving.

I'd been there to see Moo cry at movies, at books, but I'd never heard it coming out so harshly. What scared me to death was that, and I wish I could say otherwise, but Bossuet sounded beyond crying. Beyond help. They needed help.

I knew I needed to help then. My head had changed now, something clicked.

I knew now couldn't stand this. This wasn't normal. Something had clicked and I knew for certain that things were going to change, but hopefully for the better.

I'd seen them be upset about me and I'd told myself I'd get better, stop thinking about diseases so much. But this was different.

Now I knew I'd been in denial. I'd been in such strong denial that it called from someone of a higher authority to tell me something other than what I wanted to hear, what I wanted to feel. Even my friends had gone along with this game, this deceit of my denial. But only to save me. Only because they knew I couldn't deal with this new concept, of my denial, of something being wrong. Only because they cared.

For months most of the things I've been doing have made me feel guilty, they've made me feel sorry for myself and my friends, it's made me angry and they've made me scared.

But now, I felt inspired for change. For the first time, more so than any of Enjolras' speeches. I knew I needed change, in the most clear precise way

Knowing that I needed change was one of the greatest and most difficult realisations of my life. This brought arose to situations I would never have dreamed I would be in, but that's what ended up happening.

Despite what happened after, and I know you're aware of parts of it, I still have it in my mind the cost of those months of denial. The cost of the months on my friends and on people I really flipping care about and wouldn't want to hurt. But things like that happen, and life is never all bad. I do hope you will never have to experience that. I hope to God you won't have an illness or that if you do, my experience will help you, by some means.

**Thanks again the new reviewer! xD The reason I posted this today was because they wanted a soon update so I was like okay! xD ****I love any reviews really, it's really great to hear feedback. Even if it was something you wanted me to change or put in, the ones so far have been really nice though:) **Thanks for reading though too, that is also very encouraging:D 

**Btw for anyone wondering; I left in something from a previous draft by accident before, but I've deleted it now and made a number of small changes.**


	9. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

If You Want to Make God Laugh, Make Plans.

I'd planned for years to go to medical school. Whenever I was Younger I planned to learn to play the guitar, which had excited me, I planned to join a number of different sports teams at school, none of which happened. That never happened and I realise now that I'm terrible at music and sports so either would have been pointless or gotten me nowhere.

These disappointments that I faced had given me work ethic to strive towards something I am good at: science. Medicine. Helping people. I wanted so badly to be a doctor, and I felt like that was for me. Like that's what I should do with my life.

At school I studied quite consistently in my area of interest and I did well, I worked hard and got the results- further evidence to me that this is what I should do.

University had accepted me in to study my first choice and I came to most lectures happy and excited to learn what I needed to be a doctor. Maybe I was even happier than a majority of other people there. Yeah! This is exactly what I want to do.

And now I'm just throwing it away. Poof. Gone. I already had that blip over a year ago whenever I went off to other countries for a long break. And now this is it: I'm leaving.

Right now I'm packing my case, getting everything I need. Right now Bo and Moo are in the other room with pain rolling down their faces and a strong sense of disappoint and discomfort all connected with me.

I didn't want to go in with them, so I'm just packing away things that aren't in our room; toothbrush, shaving foam, iPod, the book I was reading. My medical books were staring at me, I couldn't ignore them and contemplated travelling with them, but I knew it wouldn't be for the best. I have to leave them, to help remove all of that stuff from of my head. Bringing them would only make things worse.

Plus hopefully I would be able to see Bo and Moo sometimes, maybe not at first, but later on, and they could bring them with me. But I didn't want to think about that, I didn't want to think about missing them or where I was going.

Maybe our plans are messed up. Maybe they have flaws, or maybe they change. Perhaps I wasn't meant to be a doctor, and the thought of this made my heart sink like the densest object would move through the deepest ocean. Maybe I just wasn't up for it because although I enjoyed it all it seemed to do was make my health worse.

Or on another hand, maybe I was meant to try it out and then fail. I couldn't understand that. Why was I meant to fail? It hurt so much. Why would this happen?

I didn't want to do what I was doing. I was as if my body was completing my actions independently or of their own accord though I knew I'd told them to. I didn't want to think I'd told them to do this whenever I knew what was coming but the fact was that I did. I hated this, I hated what happened to me, and it was so unfair. I didn't want it to happen to anyone but it does it happens to people and they suffer because of it and no-one understands why.

I didn't want to do what I was doing, but I had enough motivation to do so. My motivation was deeply embedded in the want to improve the emotions of the people in the room beside me. I hated this, but I hated what they were going through even more. I guess this is my only hope; if I have a hope. Setbacks acknowledged, I knew that it was the right thing to do.

It was difficult to estimate how many clothes were needed for the unknown amount of time that I would spend there. To be honest, I didn't know what to take with me, so I left a lot of things for fear of them becoming distractions.

After a good hour of sitting around and trying to think clearly: How would I tell them? What would I say? Maybe I should. No no, that wouldn't be good. I have to- but how? How can I tell them this? How will they react? How will I react to their reaction? Will their reactions be in sink? How can I deal with their faces whenever I walk in to that room? I got up, stood outside the door and further contemplated.

After bout after bout of nervousness and anxious feelings thrusted the handle in gravity's direction, and the door pivoted in its hinge. The room was very warm, and had a saddening atmosphere, mostly caused by the two people that matter most limbs wrapped up in each other- eyes and noses red, on the bed, and sleeping. Despair still clung to the air like my bad thoughts clung on to me. Ah. So maybe I could just leave? But I knew I'd feel too bad about it to actually go through with it. I started pulling out some of my clothes from the drawers, slowly and carefully anyway. I didn't know what would happen; I knew I didn't want to wake them up. They could be happy now.

I tried not to think too hard about what was happening, it scared me and I didn't know if I could go through with it if I did, but I knew these actions were necessary.

I didn't want to think about what I was wearing, or what clothes to bring; I didn't want another scarf incident again.

A soft voice said: "Joly?" I looked up to see Moo's face peeking out from Bo's shoulder at me, her neck straining for her to see.

"Mm. Yeah?" I replied, quietly.

"What's going on, honey? Come hither." She beckoned with one of her arms.

I set down my t-shirts in the case on the floor and went over to her. I couldn't not.

"hm," grunted Bo as I slid in beside them. It was nice and warm beside them. My head was on Moo's arm and I curled one of my legs on top of her, as if she was the one protecting me whenever it should really have been me. Bossuet was on the other side of her, facing away.

We didn't say anything for a while, I felt so horrible I just wanted to be broken up so I wouldn't have to feel anything. I want my insides to crawl out of me and for me to be empty. I wanted to reverse myself so you could alter your emotions and not what was happening around you. I kept picturing stabbing myself from the inside out but I knew my suicide would make them feel even worse. Over and over again I pictured a silver knife in and out of my chest. It felt good. In the silence I could hear sobbing.

"Aww, Joly come here." Her voice was fragile and gentle. She ran her hand through my messed up hair and pulled me closer to her warmth.

STOP STOP IT! STOP SOBBING! STOP MAKING THINGS WORSE! YOU IDIOT! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! DIE!DIE!IDI!EIDIEIDIDIE!IDEDIED!

"You don't have to worry. We'll look after you." She was trying to very hard to be consoling.

"No…" I let out. I wanted so incredibly strongly to believe it and for it to come true but I knew that it wouldn't ever take place. I wouldn't even allow us to attempt this pretence any further because it was unrealistic of us, I was beyond their help. As much I didn't want to be, as much as I wanted things to just slide into place they wouldn't. I had tried so hard to believe that I was okay and put off thinking about it any other situation where that wasn't sure. But I'm not okay. We're not okay. That's the _actual_ situation we're in. We can't change it or make it better by continuing in this way, though that's what I'd love to think.

Sometimes the people you can't save the people you love. And sometimes you're that person that can't be saved.

"What's happening?" asked Bossuet, whose back was still facing us. His voice was blunt, emotionless.

"Nothing, nothing." Started Moo. "The situation will conclude independently." Everything she was saying was so wrong...

It took a while for words to sink in and anger to build up inside him.

"What? No it won't?" He yelled. "We're not okay. I'm so sorry, Joly."

"Nope!" I yelped. Trying to formulate words with a stuffy nose and wet face. My voice was husky in a non-sexy way. "It's.. the truth…..SORRY!"

Both of them immediately jumped in with "Don't apoligise Joly, it's not your fault." And "Apologies only apply in situations where you are at fault."

It IS my fault. It feels like it's my fault now and it will in years to come. And this was even before you. I had so much guilt inside me, it had turned carnivore feasting on morsels of my brain, omnivore eating away at my happiness. I just wanted it do end. DIE DIE DIE! THE GUILT! NOT MY LIFE! KILLLLLLLLLLLLLLL YOURRSELF. YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE? YOU.

I tried to clear my throat, but more water kept coming out my eyes, my nose, what wrong with me? I tried to hide my face in a pillow because I didn't want to cause discomfort to Moo with my outpour of bodily fluids but she brought my head back to her chest. Normally I would have really enjoyed this position was I was barely even thinking about it now, as her hand moved vigorously across my head, trying to help me in some way.

"I FEEL REALLY BAD GUYS!" I let out, it didn't sound genuine because of all the crap that was going on with my face right now and trying not to let any of it get inside my mouth. I just couldn't hold it in, I was like a baby, and I just wanted them to say something to help me feel better.

"Don't you dare! Joly you're being such an idiot- this isn't your fault. Why would you say that, you _twat_? Don't ever say that's again. If you do, I'll hit you so fast you'll think you're flaming surrounded." I burped out a laugh sometime during that compilation of noise. I would like to mention here I may have placed some explicits with slightly more appropriate words for you...

"Thanks!"

"I'm being serious. There are certain things you can do with cork-screws, swiss army knives and a certain someone's overly-expensive-for-what-they-actually-do nail clippers. And you have to sleep sometime."

I chocked out a longer laugh, and my body began to calm down a bit. I felt better. I felt pain, pain from my head physically being sore and my body reacting with what was happening with exhaustion and pain from guilt and confusion. But I also felt strangely on a high from the comfort of my partners. It didn't help to think this would be something to miss.

Bo turned around but looked up the whole time, so I could only see his chin. His arm wrapped around Moo and I in a big protective bundle. It was warm and cosy like it always was when he did that. And I didn't want to leave. The pace of my breath and heart had become more regular with these distractions. I didn't want to think about what was going on. YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON-flowers. Bunny rabbits. Jokes. HAHA. Hahahaha. Hahaha!

"Right. Conclusively, some help may be important, but we can make some progress here. Don't worry Joly, we won't send you anywhere you don't desire to go."

Thanks for bringing THAT up again. But I knew she'd been thinking about it. What she said seemed strange. I was so confused as to why she seemed to have sunk further into the oceans of denial than I had, but now it made sense. She was trying to do anything to make me feel better, say anything, it didn't matter what. Ugh I wish what she was saying could be true I wish I didn't need help but I do. I know I do. It sucks but it's true.

"It's okay." I said, trying to sound as if I felt it. I needed to get this out and inform them of my decision clearly but my voice sounded ragged.

"Yes…It's okay." She hushed.

"No…no I mean. I'm going. I'm going to get help."

"Joly!" they both protested, knowing it wasn't ever what I had planned or wanted.

"No. I need help. I know I do."

"Don't worry about us, we'll find a way. Don't put yourself through this." Moo said. I could see the confusion and the sadness in her eyes. Trying to persuade me out of this act that they'd both love and hate me for.

"But what if it's the only way to get out?" I questioned them. "This is getting worse. I'm making things worse by being here and I feel terrible about it. This is the only way we can try to get rid of this. I have to go."

"But…" started Musichetta.

"No. Stop it." I tried to be strong.

"You can't leave us, Joly. You can't head where-"

Bo interrupted- "Well done. I'm proud of you Joly. We'll miss you a lot." His voice, despite the intonations, showed no sense of emotional feelings.

"Thanks." I sat up, and Bo got up out of bed. Suprised but, glad of the support. I needed it.

"Do you want me to help you get ready?" he asked. I was shocked.

"Um. Well I've already done a bit, just need to finish off getting clothes and stuff."

"Okay dokey. I'll help you grab trousers and stuff then?"

"Thanks, man." I tried to sound optimistic. Moo was sprawled out on the bed, her eyes glistening, unmoving, like an emotional statue. It captured her beauty. I'd miss seeing that face.

I didn't really know how to feel. I tried to wash away emotions in these moments; they weren't necessary and only caused pain. Bossuet helped me get the rest of my clothes ready. He didn't say much, but smiled at me a few times. Did he want me to go so badly? Was the voice right? YES. Was I a complete burden?

I thought for a while. My humanness gave into curiosity, and a slight melancholy that took over my feelings.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"Helping you?" He retorted. "Because I want to."

"Hmm. Moo isn't." I paused. "It's not that I don't want you to, it's that your so ready to get rid of me."

He stopped suddenly. He set down my jeans into the suitcase.

"Joly-joly." He started, sounding angry. His eyes had fire in them and his jaw clenched. He went over to me with heavy footsteps, Moo gasped softly. He wrapped his hand around my arm, firmly, almost hurting me.

"Joly. I don't want you to leave. I don't want this to be our lives: I want you to go to uni tomorrow. I want you to be able to become a doctor. I want to be able to go to uni as well, to finish off my degree. I want us to go to go to our meeting tomorrow with the guys, to drink beer and laugh with them. To not have to worry about what's going on, about what you're doing, about how long I can last, about how long Moo can last. Every day I wake up hoping to make it to the end without something usual happening, without you getting worried or hallucinating again. I worry about your health, I worry about if we'll be able to get out of this. I don't know. I just want life to be _normal_. I want to help you and I wouldn't give up you ever- so don't you give up on yourself, Joly. But this is the first step you've ever made towards improvement, and we have to take it."

I felt moved and I wanted to cry again, because of what I'd done to them but also out of love.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"Don't be stupid." He cupped my face in a protective embrace and I smiled. He kissed me softly.

After he added. "It's not your fault."

"It feels like it is. It always does."

"What can we do to alter that?" Piped in Musichetta, whose eyes were filled with tears that her voice only partially showed.

"Nothing, I guess. That's life." I felt depressed even saying it. I wanted my guilt to be lifted from me so badly. Ugh. Life.

"Well, I guess; you should know we don't agree with your feelings." He said. I tried to laugh.

"Yes. Joly: we don't think it's your fault. If we did we wouldn't love you like we do now." I usually hated soppiness in any shape or form; the three words 'I love you' in that sequence were sometimes too much cheese for me. But this was okay. I could take this. I looked her straight in the eyes as she said that and I felt better because I knew that she was being completely honest.

We finished packing and clambered back into bed together. I thought of all the bacteria that accumulated in the last 24 hours, since I last slept here, but apart from that it was nice, and warm and comforting. I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to stay awake all night with them because it'd be my last with them for God knows how long. Why did I have to leave? Oh yeah…

We often plan out or lives, or at least have an idea of what we want. You'll probably already have thought: what do I want to do for a job now? Or in a few years? What university? What course? How many children do I want to have? How far should I pursue this hobby?

But it doesn't matter. Plans don't always work out. Mine didn't. It's disappointing, when you find out that it isn't going to happen. But I know now, we don't need to worry. Just because what we first thought isn't what happens for us, doesn't mean that what does take place isn't brilliant, that our reality will be more than we could come up with, or what we really would have wanted in the end. Plans don't have to be there to take place, they're usually there to be broken; twisted, and metamorphose into something better. Don't ever you forget it. And enjoy what happens to yours!

**Hope you enjoyed:)**


	10. That Thing In My Head

That Thing in My Head, Yeah, What Is That?

Okay, first things first. I was clueless as to what was before me. It was so weird. I was booked into a mental home… Me… Joly… How did that happen?

Are you meant to say that you're booked into a mental home?

I don't even know. BLEHHHHH. Oh God; not you.

What are you meant to say about mental homes? BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD.

Okay, not helping. How is that helpful? SHUT UP! I want to leave here. SO DOES EVERYONE ELSE. Flip me, shut up. Go away and shut up. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

UGH. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU ETC AND SO ON AND SO FORTH SIMILE CONTINUE ON AS BEFORE THANK YOU VERY MUCH PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Nah. Oh God. Stop it.

Nah.

Nah.

Nah.

So anyway, I'm just sitting here in bed READY TO DIE waiting until the moment I have to DIE get up and ready to KILL MYSELF and go to the DEATH ROW no-no, go to the mental home.

Joly, joly, joly, joly joly jolyjoly, you're giving yourself OVER. To THEM. This is a place full of illnesses. MENTAL ILLNESSES. THEY WILL INFECT YOU AND DESTROY YOUR MIND. DISEASE ARE HORRIBLE! The worst thing in the world…. They can destroy your life and kill you. Change you forever. Mental illnesses destroy you forever. It will happen to you Joly. RUN AWAY FROM THE DISEASE!

OH MY GOSH STOP TALKING ABOUT THAT! You have destroyed my mind you little twat. I HATE YOU. STOP TALKING ABOUT DISEASE.

Damn it.

You have no control.

Damn it.

You will die.

Damn-stop it.

Ugh.

Ugh.

Why?

It becomes clear how a mental disorder can progress strongly whenever you compare the normality you once felt to the confusion, self-loathing and guilt I feel now. Every part of my life has changed, each singly aspect had altered since the progression of whatever it is. I don't feel the same, I don't act the same or treat people in the same way. I try to retain the manner in which I should treat people, what is considered nice, but it's so hard. I'm hurting and so is everyone else around me. Cause of me. What can I do about it? Leave I guess. Give it a go. If it doesn't work out that's my life, that's the way it was meant to go for me.

I don't think the same as I used to CLEARLY, or spend my time in the same way. I know I'm different that before. I know I don't know what's there anyone- what is actually in existence and what's just in my head. Or is it just in my head? I don't know. WHY WHY WHY.

That morning after I'd packed I don't want to get up. There's was a sense of apprehension, a bout of sickness from nerves and also relief with the idea that I'll leave soon. Soon….A few hours now

Whenever I woke up I was shivering even though my body was sandwiched in the heat of my partners. You can probably guess, all I could think about was the micro-organisms crawling over the sheets. UGHH! How can you not think about them? How can you live your life and not think about them? Pathogens. They shape us, they can change our lives for days, weeks or forever. They are what causes disease, and disease shapes us.

What's seems weird to me, even know, is that no-one else really thinks about them. I don't understand why. Why aren't you? Why aren't you now? They affect you. They affect everyone in this world right now in the most profound way. They can crawl inside you, they will be inside you right now, destroying tissues, resisting you body's cry out for help by defeating any team of white blood cells they are up against. They can cause you weeks of pain, loss of bodily fluids, sore eyes, sore nose, sore head, they mutate your DNA, they can crawl through your any little paper cut or insect bite you didn't even realise was there, through your skin and leave you paralysed. They're here. Right now. In this room. Everywhere. BUT why does no one care?

Not only did I have that knowledge; I could see them. I wanted to run away and leave the room, leave those evil, haunting creatures behind. FOREVER! But I was slotted in so compactly between Bo and Moo that I had lost the ability to move more than a centimetre.

The bacteria knew I hated them, and they were crawling all around me. They were evil. They hated me. They wanted me to die. Everyone wants you to die Joly. Shut up.

Imagine: a completely bacteria-free room. How amazingly perfect would that be? It's so beautiful. It makes my heart cry. I feel like my name suggests: jolly. It would be unreal. Why didn't they make one of those? A room free of disease would be so pure; like the cleanness of it. The cleanliness that rid itself of all threats of infection. Every surface shows the clarity of being sickness-free. Everywhere perfectly disinfected. There were no little creatures crawling the surface, carrying whatever bug that would make your body crawl with dysfunction. Not in this room that I imagined.

Imagine it had been cleared of all the evilness that is disease. This would take place using whatever method was necessary; a million and one heavy sanitising products or a radical form of radiation that had been recently removed or extreme temperatures. It didn't matter. I DON'T CARE HOW! It was free. Free and clear of disease. Clean of disease. Happy without disease. No chance of contamination. The perfect place to live.

I had a few attacks of fear, and of anticipation of what happened. They weren't full on panic attacks, but I had felt very hopeless. The voice was always there, and I had a few recurring hallucinations about seeing diseases again. But hopefully it would improve.

My mind thought over what treatments they would use, whether or not they would be effective, and of course, what illness I have. I admit it. Not everything is right. I have a medical illness. I'm crazyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

But I still didn't want to be. Each time I thought about it my heart sank. There's something I've always hated the idea of illness and medical problems in general. But I know facing it is the only way forward, and I want to be free of any disorder.

Here's something I wrote before I left. An extract from my journal, just a notebook I had. I needed to see what illnesses I might have before I went to the doctor. I wanted to find out for myself, so I wrote them out, focusing on the symptoms, and commented on my own personal experience of them beside them. I stuck it in for you.

_My Crazy Little Head…_

_My symptoms:_

_Hallucinations; auditory and visual, and they're mostly connected with disease, though some do appear random._

_Voice in my head talking to me_

_Panic attacks- but they were almost always there._

_Extreme hypochondria… I guess._

_Okay so._

_Schizophrenia symptoms:_

_-Hallucinations. Can be positive, usually negative or abusive. Maybe sometimes I do. (half tick)  
Can come from one place or a number of places. My head? I guess that's one place. (tick)  
They feel real for the person experiencing them, but nobody else is going through the same experiences. I guess so. (tick)_

_-Delusion. A belief that is mistaken or based upon a strange or unrealistic view. Nope. (NO tick!)  
They may use a delusion to explain a hallucination. I dunno. I used to think someone was controlling my thoughts but now I don't know where they come from. It feels like they just spring into my head. No-one controls them. I just can't. (no tick) _

_-Confused thoughts. They can be…(tick )_

_-Unusual behaviour or thoughts. Usual dress sense, agitated or shout for no reason. Don't think so (no tick).  
Feel as if their thoughts are being controlled, not their own or disappear. YES! This has been bugging me for soo long…(TICK)_

_Some of the other symptoms I don't appear to be showing as strongly. My relationships and social habits are functional, with a small amount of deterioration; I doubt it's noticeable to anyone else. I've more been having concentration issues at times with all this flipping noise in my head. I did feel motivated in life until the voice started talking to me about my worth. I'm not suicidal, I want to live, but it's been on my mind._

_Other Illnesses in which you have 'hallucinations'_

_Schizoaffective disorder:_

_Basically a mix of schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, major depressive episode with psychotic features, give or take. It's difficult to treat._

_Symptoms: delusions, hallucinations, disorganised speech or behaviour, catatonic behaviour, mutism, no motivation, lack of emotions. I might have hallucinations but I don't think any of the other symptoms. My emotions are definitely functioning._

_-Delusions or hallucinations present for a time period longer than two weeks… I don't think delusions… hallucinations are a possibility._

_-Meets criteria for Major depressive episode, manic episode or mixed episode. I definitely do not have one of these, _

_Brief Psychotic Disorder:_

_Delusions, hallucinations- OKAY! WE'VE ALREADY TALKED ABOUT THIS!, disorganised speech or behaviour or catatonic behaviour. My behaviour is fine. _

_Psychotic symptoms occurred at least one day but less than a month. It's been ages…_

_Not part of another disorder WELL I THINK IF IT WERE PART OF ANOTHER FLIPPING DISORDER THEN IT WOULDN'T BE IN THIS SECTION WOULD IT?_

_Substance-induced… Nope. Though I did try over the counter drugs, I only took what's prescribed though_

_Bipolar:_

_Manic and depressive and stuff_

_Don't think I have this._

_Shared psychotic disorder_

_The principal feature of this disorder is the cemented belief by the secondary partner in the dominant partner's delusion. What does that even mean? The delusions are experienced by both. They are far less bizarre than schizophrenic patients and are believable. Since they're within the realm of possibility it is _

I think I stopped because I got really scared. I couldn't go on. They were all so similar and getting mixed up in my head, and I didn't know which ones I had, really. I needed to stop thinking about them, but they were all that consumed my mind.

Some more hours, and I'd discover what plans were laid out for me.

**I apologise for you waiting. If you're interested in my life you can keep reading...**

**Unfortunately, it will have to become the norm for a while anyway, firstly because of school. We have four subjects all together and every day so far we've gotten homework in each one of them every day, which is very time consuming. And we can't just not do it cause what we can do in uni depends on how we do in these exams so ahh~scary. **

**Also, I am very happy to say we're doing Les Miserables as our school musical! :D I really couldn't believe my luck as this is my favourite musical ever! :D But of course that calls for a lot of rehearsals, most days after school and unfortunately I live far away so I only get home at like 7:00.**

**And yes... I am the most important part: Whore #2 and Grantaire's girlfriend, who if you really strip all the layers down you'll find are actually the main protagonists. Though in ours he has two girlfriends so I'm a member of the second cutest polymarous relationship in all of Paris. Though we actually spend a majority of our time making E/R references haha:)**

**If you have any suggestions let me know:) **

**Merci for your time:) **


	11. I Guess This Better Than I don't know

"Wakey wakey!" Bossuet shook my body. It felt like all the germs inside there were wobbling about and soaking into my capillaries. "Oh what a wonderful MORNINGGG! Oh what a wonderful day!" He started booming out in a musical tone.

"Stop….stopp…." It wasn't the voice that had startled me, not that Bossuet is a particularly good singer. It was the feeling of being moved about with little creatures crawling around inside me, and their infectious nature.

"Okay. Sorry." The movement stopped and I calmed down. "We have to go in half an hour though." I shook my head. I didn't want to go. I'll just stay in this warm nest for a while. Being surrounded by death and disease wasn't too bad when faced with the idea of going to see the doctor about your 'problems'. They weren't there. I was fine.

They might want to try and give you some drugs or something…...….Yeah? What about it. Drugs have side effects. Most of them are okay. YOU NEVER KNOW! YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT SIDE-EFFECTS THEY'LL HAVE!

Because I hate you so incredibly much, I'm getting up. YOU LISTEN TO ME JOLY! GO AWAYGOGOGOGOGOGGOOGOGOOGOGO!

I'm sitting here giving you _advice_, and you're _ignoring_ me. No wonder you've ended up so crazy. SHUT UP! I'M OKAY! NO YOU'RE NOT!

Sometimes you're better… sometimes you listen. SHUT UP. I'M FEELING SLIGHTER BETTER THIS DAY THAN SOME OTHERS AND YOU'RE NOT RUINING IT!

"Come on Joly! I'm sorry. I'm trying to help!" Was that out loud? I'm so confused. UGH.

You wanted to go the other day, remember? said a female person. I'm so confused. Which one is out loud? WHAT THE FLIP IS GOING ON?

My mind feels really….foggy and blurry. My head's sore. I'm not seeing anything right now because my eyes are clamped so tightly in frustration.

They're trying to distract you from your true mission of staying disease-free. Hmm. But you're not usually so high-pitched. Or so nice. I am good to you! How dare you think otherwise! Twat! You're a twat. You know what I hate? You.

A million images of Musichetta and Bossuet covered with blood started filling my head. They were in pain in every single one, and they were mostly disgusting. You know what I hate? You. You can sstop saying that. I don't even know who's saying what anymore. I'm just trying to guess based on what is likely to come out of someone's mouth…or mind.

What's going on?

Man, we've just got 30 minutes. What do we do? Don't worry. Maybe we can notify the doctor and apprise him the situation.

My side felt warm and as if it was being rubbed. It's okay Joly. Whatever the voice says it's okay.

I don't know what's going on. Open your eyes. I slowly opened them, and it was quite painful I'd been clashing my eyelids together so hard. The world outside was slightly blurry, I concentrated on focusing in. Moo was beside me, and Bo was standing topless in front. Okay. I was okay. No you're not. I'm fine.

Are you okay honey?

Her lips had moved.

Her green eyes faced in my direction and looked into my dark grey ones. She was looking for a reply.

I searched for my voice. It's somewhere in your throat right? Laryngeal incisure. Median cricothyroid. Cricoid cartilage. Superior laryngeal nerve and artery. Somewhere around there started to vibrate. My head was formulating words. "Yeah…" I got out. Hyoid bone. "I'm…. just really confused."

"We'll sort you out. I made some breakfast for you, would you like it now?" My stomach perked up at the idea of having breakfast made for me.

YEAH! YEAH YEAH! That'd be great. Thank you. Oh wait, your voice box was supposed to vibrate in these sort of situations. "Yeah! Thank you!"

To be honest, the rest of the day didn't go much better. I felt really confused during the doctors meeting as well.

I'd slipped up before on vocalising thoughts and speaking to the voice in a manner that everyone could hear. This day was one of the worst. The lines of thoughts and spoken word had blurred. Almost disappeared. It sucked.

The voice had taken over a lot of things. It was so loud and so hard to ignore, so present in my head, the battle had become fiercer and my army was running out of men. That was why so often I listened to it. Whenever it told me I was an idiot I felt like one. I felt like an idiot, so unintelligent in this word, so behind everyone else. Whenever it said people hated me I believed that many did, or that I deserved to be hated. It didn't help that I was already being eaten up by the guilt of hearing some of the things the voice said, that they had come from me, from my brain! They were practically my thoughts, and they insulted my friends. I'd been disturbed by some of the visions the voice had, and had of course become aware of all of the many ways in which humans can contract disease on this earth. And each one of them scared me.

You're probably wondering what happened at the doctors meeting, and to be honest, you'd be better off asking Moo or Bo. But I said I wanted you to know my story, to at least hear my point of view.

Here's Joly's sucky experience:

Finally my stomach was filled with delicious food, as per usual whenever Moo decided to cook something, and I was clothed appropriately for the general public. My hand was wrapped around someone else's as we walked into the clean-smelling building.

There were a number of people, I had to resist the urges the voice telling me to run away, that I could catch something from them.

This is a place where sick people go. Hence the presence of doctors. I know, but they clean here. It doesn't matter, go away. But you might catch something from them! Stop it stop it!

I didn't want to think about catching something from them. I didn't want to think about sickness at all.

But LOOK at them! Look at that shaking old man- what does he have? Parkinsons? Huntingtons? That could be you in a few years! Or her with the red eyes-that could be contagious! It could be conjunctivitis! HOLY FLIP NO! Some people jumped.

What's wrong with him?

He's just…look we have an appointment at 10:15.

I looked over to see a dark-coloured lady that had at least 40 years and streaks of grey hair staring at me. I felt embarrassed, but someone squeezed my hand. THEY'RE OUT TO GET ME! THE BACTERIA! Can't you sense them? That's only five minutes. OH MY gosh her voice is horribleSHUT UP SHUT UP! Sit down for now. I saw her mouth move, but her eyes faced my direction.

You can't even see most of their diseases! There's five people in here and only two have effects visable to you right now. Think of all of the people with colds here, with hepatitis A, with Measles, with influenza, staphylococcal infection, cryptosporidiosis, meningococcemia, infectious mononucleosis, , coxsackie virus AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I tried to move but was held down by someone. Musichetta's face was scared, like how I felt. Sian Doherty, please. FLIP ME HURRY UP! I WANT TO BE FREEEE!

Calm down Joly! Please! UMMM I'M TRYING!

Why can't they see….ugh I dunno. I don't really know what's going on. Someone was clutching my arm down to the arm of the chair, and someone else was standing in front of me. Uggh. I don't even want to try to see them. My head is so full of crap and stuff… it's taking over what's going on around me. It's always been a battle and I'm running out of ammunition. I'm running out of steam. I feel exhausted, but my head is still sore and the voice hasn't shut up yet. WEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Hepatitis B.

Pneumonia.

Strep Throat.

Tuberculosis.

Typhoid.

Yellow Fever.

UGH STOP IT!

You stop it Joly! Stop going along with them, we can get rid of them by ourselves! NO UGH! I'm trying to do something good! I'm trying to help myself and my friends and stuff…I just want to…I just want to…be okay…Laura Tebbutt now please. OH MY GOSH WHEN WILL IT BE ME? I WANT TO-BE QUIET JOLY! Is he okay? He's fine… that's what we're here for. Tourette's or something, eh?

Tourette's: a disorder that is usually present from childhood which on the spectrum of tic disorders (that includes provisional, transient, and persistent tics.) It is characterised by a number of physical tics and at least one vocal tic. There are no exact causes known, but genetic and environmental factors may play a role. There is no effective treatment either, but certain medications and therapies can help.

People with Tourette's syndrome often suffer from coprolalia, the involuntary exclamation of obscene words or phrases, socially inappropriate or derogatory remarks… I have coprolalia… of the mind...I guess…

Someone came towards me in a white doctor's coat and then Moo and Bo started pulling me. Though it was not in a rough way, nor in one that caused me to doubt the good intentions of their actions, so I let them. The doctor's room was small and had lots of wooden boards and a dull blue ceiling.

A deep gravelly voice spoke, with a rushed tone with friendly inclinations. Sorry, if I had've realised how severe the issue is, I would have seen you sooner! My Name is Dr. Howell. Who will I direct the questions to?

We're his partners. You can ask us. Musichetta said. He had an odd expression on his face that I'd seen before. He moved on. HE'S SO OLD AND DISGUISTING

Well…He flicked through his notes on a black plastic pad. RUNAWAY JOLY!NOPENOPENOPENOPE When did you first notice any symptoms arising.

This would be interesting. I wanted to hear, but there was a lot going on in my head too, it was hard to concentrate.

Well…Bossuet began. DISEASES…He's always had an THINK OF THE . obsession with disease, and been a bit of a NOPE. hypochondriac. LEAVE ME ALONE! but he started as a medical student anyway 5 years ago. The doctor's head moved. Because he wanted to help other people, added in Musichetta.

Throughout his life his hypochondria has caused him problems with panic attacks and things. PANIC ATTACKS! AGH! It's always been a problem, problem…Problems…YOU HAVE A PROBLEM! Please stop it.

HMMMMMMMMMM

HMMMMMHmmmmm

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

HHMMMM

HEEEEEEEEEEHEE

HEHEHEHEHEHE!

Is yours, or his daily life effected by this?

DAYDAYDAYDAYDAYDAY

Dayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Yes. A female piped in. Effecting almost all of his days now, unfortunately. The doctor's face had not moved as he stared down at the paper, pen moving from side to side.

MOST OF OURS! YOU'RE HORRIBLE JOLY. PREPARE TO DIE. WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT? YOU SHOULD DIE. STOP! NO…. YES…..NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. YEPYEPYEPx1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,00 0etc. Right. No. Stop. Yes. What? Go away!

From my observations, I think he seems to be having some serious issues that need dealt with immediately. I'll contact the local hospital now and inquire the availability of a bed. LOCAL HOSPITAL. THINGS ARE GOING TO GET SO MUCH WORSE!..

NO STOP IT! I WON'T LET YOU PERSUADE ME WITH ALL YOUR CRAP. THEY'LL BE BETTER. I'LL MAKE THEM BETTER.


	12. What the Flip Even Is This?

What Even Is This Chapter Really?

**Okay, I'm sorry for the delay. I have had little spare time, I'm doing really badly in all my tests but Les Misérables show is tomorrow until Friday, I will have soo much more spare time after that. I used to come home every night and this was my relaxation time and I loved it, but now I barely have had time for that.**

**This really isn't great; I wrote practically all of it just there now. I just know how easy it is to get out of reading a story if the author takes ages to update, so I wanted to give you something, and I can edit it later. Thanks :)**

It's so strange to think about the fact that I have a mental illness. There is something wrong with me.

It can be very easy to see other people go through it, feel sorry for them, or even worse- label them for it. But it's not you, it's me. So weird.

I hate the idea of having a mental illness, No-one understands it because it's difficult to understand unless you've experienced it. The irrational thoughts or, hallucinations. You just seem mad to other people. They understand there's something wrong and appreciate that, but can't wrap their heads around what it actually feels like.

And all the stigma attached to it is even worse, I don't even want to go into that cause it's so irritating and I know it's affected you before.

The problem is that you don't know how I feel. That's why I try, I'm trying to give you an idea because I know it's affected you. You know there's something wrong and we can't do anything about it. That's it. That's what we have to deal with in life, and hopefully this will be a source of some comfort or I don't even know what I keep on talking about this trying to help you, but I really don't know how to. I'm such a crap person.

Just to help you feel better (or maybe myself, I don't know), I incorporated a list of celebrities with mental illnesses. I assume you don't have one and I hope to God you never will, but even if this makes you feel more okay about me having one.

Mel Gibson is a manic depressive

Catherine Zeta Jones has Bipolar 2 disorder

Brooke Shields had Postpartum depression.

John Nash has Paranoid schizophrenia

Carrie Fisher, also been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder

The chef, Paula Deen has Panic attacks and agoraphobia (anxiety disorder in crowded or open places)

Elton John was once battling against bulimia

Pete Wenz almost lost his life to Bipolar disorder (Listen to Fall Out Boy's 7 Minutes In Heaven

One of my all-time favourite comedians; David Walliams also has Bipolar disorder and also suffered insomnia for a long period of time

So I guess it's not just me, and it's not just you either having to deal with me. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be depressing haha! Just some aspects of reality aren't as nice. But they make you appreciate the ones that are, and if we never got challenged then I guess we wouldn't ever have any goals.

Okay; I'll shut up. Here's what happened _next._

I had to leave the doctor's office. Go out. LALALALALALA lalalalalalaalalaala etc, things like that; you get the point, same as usual- voices in my head.

"Do you think there'll be anywhere he can go?" voiced the concern. I mean my girlfriend.

"I'll look for somewhere now," he explained, rushing his words out of his mouth like they were hands trying to push us out of the hole in the wall (door).

"Okay…" voiced Moo, and I doubted that she was being genuine. I still felt like hitting my head against the wall. I could just see it, I wanted to get rid of it, all the pain. The constant noise. What was it like without it? Imagine not having it….So strange. But I want it to go. Nobody understands how much, I feel like I would do anything, almost.

We moved. I felt more pain but also an overwhelming feeling of comfort as my head moved back and forth through the air, touching the white plane of the wall for only a matter of seconds before reversing into nothing. I didn't know how hard I was going with the whole head-banging things but my arms were grabbed in an attempt to remove the control from me. I wanted it back! It felt better. Not for my head, but my nerves. This whole situation was making me nervous.

My feet and arms were then pulled back by rough hands and rough gentle ones that made me feel uneasy. My face was warm and flustered, and there was a lot of noises I couldn't separate.

That was it. This is it.

I've truly gone mad. I feel crazy, I feel like going crazy, and it hurts.

The phone rang and it hurt. My eyes were closed as I tried to sort out my confused head. It felt like being cripplingly stressed for a prolonged period. The world was black and all I knew was what my sensory neurones told me and what I heard. The noise in my head was blurred with what wasn't in my head.

Someone put their hand up to my face and started rubbing it and that was the only thing right noe that felt okay.

Stuff happened, (what I have no flipping clue) and I was in a car with one person beside me. It was a small blue car, and the engine was a low murmur. A few people were talking, some loudly others in hushed tones, trying to avoid my ears, but I wasn't paying attention to what they were saying. I was listening to a negative voice that has been growing like a mental tumour in my mind.

The car sped along quite steadily on a rode that went from smooth to bumpy, back to smooth again. The traffic, I assumed, caused a problem as we slowed down a lot near the end, and the voices were louder and more desperate. I thought we were still stuck in a traffic jam but no: time to come out.

Hospitals were like a dream and a nightmare to me. Dream because of the elimination of disease. A horrible nightmare because of the prevelance of it, especially catchy ones. But I'm here now, and it#s pretty much neutral, except for the fact that I liked staying still as things were easier to deal with sitting down.

My arms and legs weren't mine as I was forced to move under the roof of the building that contained so many possibilities of contamination its crazy. I wanted to go. But I wanted to leave five seconds ago in the car so I don't really know how that would help.

Whenever I was it was light and there was a lot of noise and bright lights. I noticed someone had blood dripping down their face but it was okay because it's not spreadable. There were a lot of doctors rushing, some of them were paramedics rushing in with someone. I knew it was accident and emergency. Which one am I?

I sat, someone's hand around mine sitting on my lap. So warm and pointless. I was too distracted with my mind and my surroundings.

Just waiting for I don't know what. But for this to go away.

My name sounded. I was pulled up and I complied, not knowing what else to do or having the energy to revolt. A flood of rushed syllables and descriptions flooded out of a woman's mouth, not in the soft, sweet way they were usually uttered. I hate this.

I want to go.

I had to go.

My body was repositioned away. Away from the warm hands and the caring voices that I recognised and I guess I wanted though it was hard to tell until they left.

I had to go.

So; I left.


End file.
